














THE RELIGION: OF THIRTY ‘GREAT 
THINKERS 


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in 2022 with funding from 
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THE RELIGION OF, , 
THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


TOGETHER WITH MISCELLANEOUS 
ESSAYS ON RELIGIOUS SUBJECTS 


BY 
ALBERT GEHRING 





MARSHALL JONES COMPANY 
BOSTON - MASSACHUSETTS 


COPYRIGHT * 1925 + BY 
MARSHALL JONES COMPANY 


THE PLIMPTON PRESS*NORWOOD:MASSACHUSETTS_ 
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 


PREFACE 


HIS volume consists of two parts, the first 
being an examination of the religious opin- 
ions of certain well-known thinkers, the 

second embodying essays on religious subjects by the 
author himself. One conclusion will immediately be 
discovered by the facetious, and that is, that the author 
is not in the class of the thirty great thinkers. But 
men are great only through comparison with those 
who are small, and literature includes many works, 
accordingly, which are not of the first rank. This by 
way of justification for the inclusion, under one cover, 
of thoughts so different in quality that the only 
feature they have in common is the fact that they 
deal with the same subject matter. In the introduction 
the reasons will be given which led the author to under- 
take the writing of the main treatise, and the nature 
and scope of the same will be explained. 

As for the supplementary essays, the author’s posi- 
tion, in regard to the subjects discussed, is removed 
from either extreme. While rejecting orthodox 
Christianity, he nevertheless finds much to support the 
cardinal doctrines of religion. In this he will likely 
meet with little favor: to some readers he will not seem 
sufficiently religious, to others not sufficiently free. 
However, the position he has adopted is one which has 


found wide acceptance among thinking men; indeed, 
Vv 


oi PREFACE 


may be regarded as the type of belief peculiarly char- 
acteristic of such men for the past two hundred years. 
There is no unity between the various essays, which 
were written at different times and without thought 
of collection in a single volume. Each essay is pre- 
sented individually, as it might appear in magazine 
form; although there is a rough connection achieved 
by grouping together the articles of a negative char- 
acter, then proceeding to the essay on The Genesis of 
Faith, and finally passing to the treatises which are 
more positive in nature. The Genesis of Faith orig- 
inally appeared in the New World, while Grounds of 
Faith is reprinted from the Hibbert Journal. 


CONTENTS 
THE RELIGION OF THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


PAGE 


PRETRODUCTION OH ao cain oan erie soe sir licen « Bees raiks ix 
SEVENTEENTH CENTURY 


Milton (1608-1674) 3 
LOCKE GIOS2-—1 70A i yitinp ei eisehel baat 7 
Descartes (15960-1650) Mur oyy cae Un mat 
Rascal (1023-1002! )n hry trattoria lire tveaal th anes 
Spinoza (1032-1077) \ celeb ety shears sy tesh i tet 
Meibnitzs CTO40-17 10) See rans ur eu sh lsh 18 


EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 


Berkeley (1684-1753) SPARE UIUC CANE Sk Pete 
EMME GE? LI D770) Wile Neer Mimehy Un Sais tamed 
Woltairen (LOO4aI77 3) si to hee a nul e mold a noe 
Roucceathi (i 7 i217 7o) a) ade ts hen sy Ot 
Plo bacne (U7 2a 700) ata es loeetinic Rie =p ates 38 
Kant Giz 24-1804) ei he. teint ii seed sa nee 
Bichtew UI7oeclO14)) ie ayo eek tiny sens AAO 
eessinpu CT 72OCL7ZOL) 1) tissues ht seth eeu ad 
Soh llers GE ASOaL COS) bi syenia Mek Ndr ig ae ta OO 
Goethe ¢ (17490-1832) Vii ie serach tS 
NINETEENTH CENTURY 
Carlyle (1795-1881) WE riis tat acuicey Ten OT 
John Stuart Mill Gee PAU havea Rael ess OS 
Herbert Spencer (1820-1903) - + + + + 69 


Vii 


Vill 


CONTENTS 


Matthew Arnold (1822-1888) 
Browning (1812-1889) 


Comte (1798-1857) 


Renan (1823-1892) 
Schelling (1775-1854) 
Hegel (1770-1831) 
Schopenhauer (1788-1860) 
Nietzsche (18441900) 
Emerson (1803-1882) 
Ibsen (1828-1906)! 

Tolstoi (1828-1910) 
Conclusion 

Appendix 


Partial list of writings in which the religious 
views of the men considered in this book are 


laid down . 


MISCELLANEOUS Essays 


A Statement of Unbelief . 
The Errors of Christianity 


The Empirical Argument for Chechen 


Who are the Children of God? 
The Genesis of Faith . 
Grounds of Faith . 

The Extent of Consciousness . 


The Possibility of an After Life . 


Mental Overtones . 


PAGE 


INTRODUCTION 


questions, and the thought occurred to me that 

I should like to familiarize myself with the atti- 
tude toward these questions of the men most capable of 
understanding them, 7. e., our greatest thinkers. I ex- 
pected that I could go to the nearest library and find 
any number of books yielding the desired information. 
Imagine my surprise when, after looking over various 
catalogues, I failed to meet with a single volume of the 
kind suggested. To be sure, I discovered a limited 
number of works dealing with the religious opinions 
of special groups of men. There was one, for ex- 
ample, which treated of the theology of the English 
poets; another which expounded the views of German 
classicists: and a third entitled “Religious Beliefs of 
Scientists.” But none gathered the contents of all 
these works together and gave a collective view, how- 
ever concise, of the opinions entertained by men of 
various ages and countries whose verdict might be 
considered authoritative. 

Surely, a book of this kind would seem desirable. 
Religious questions are among the most difficult to 
grasp; and though everyone may finally wish to con- 
struct his own view, the opinions of recognized authori- 
ties must be welcome aids in the formation of personal 
conclusions. 


S OME time ago I became interested in religious 


1X 


x INTRODUCTION 


In the absence of such works, I have attempted to 
offer something of the kind myself. I have chosen 
thirty men among our modern thinkers who are most 
able, by training and innate power of thought, to deal 
with the gigantic problems of religion, and have given 
short résumés of their views. The limitation to mod- 
ern thinkers is necessary because the men of older days 
were hindered in the free exercise of thought by the 
crushing authority of ecclesiastical institutions: likewise 
because they lacked the knowledge of modern results 
of investigation which have a vital bearing on the 
subjects under consideration. The year 1600 has been 
selected as the point of demarcation between the older 
and newer thinkers. Strictly speaking, 1700 would 
have been more appropriate, as the men of the inter- 
vening century, though beginning to awaken in other 
respects, still showed comparatively little independence 
of thought in matters of religion. But by adopting 
the earlier date we have been able to include all the 
prominent philosophers since Descartes, and thus to 
give a complete picture of modern philosophical opin- 
ion regarding the subject of our inquiry. 

An inspection of the chosen list will reveal that they 
belong entirely to the classes of philosophers, theolo- 
gians, and writers. These, it seems, are most compe- 
tent to give authoritative opinions. A man may be 
an eminent musician, artist, inventor, or even scientist, 
without having the knowledge necessary for the 
thorough understanding of deep theoretic questions; 
indeed, the faculties involved in some of these cases 
seem to be of so special a nature as not to require 
much “thinking” at all, in the more profound sense of 


INTRODUCTION xi 


the term. Even among the class of writers only such 
men have been selected as have exhibited a decided 
theoretic or spiritual bent; individuals like Burns and 
Heine, whose trend was more specifically artistic or 
emotional, have been passed over in favor of others 
like Browning and Schiller, who can be included among 
the philosophers as well as poets. 

As to the exact composition of the list, there will of 
course be diversity of opinion. Some of the thinkers 
adduced may be considered inferior, in power of 
thought, to others who have been omitted. Probably 
no list could be compiled which would meet with uni- 
versal approbation. Nevertheless, there will likely be 
agreement as to the great majority of names. The 
dozen or more of technical “philosophers” certainly are 
foremost in their realm, as a glance at the chapter 
headings of any history of philosophy will show; and 
surely nobody would exclude men like Mill, Carlyle, 
Voltaire, Emerson, Tolstoi, and the German classicists. 
So then, the differences of opinion would likely crystal- 
lize only about a half dozen or so of the men; while 
all without exception will unquestionably be allowed 
to rank as authorities entitled to speak on the subjects 
considered. 

Only in the case of Holbach have we introduced a 
man who did not personally attain the greatest promi- 
nence. But in his case we are dealing with the repre- 
sentative of a highly influential group of men. The 
French Encyclopedists of the 18th century, of whom 
Holbach may be regarded as the mouthpiece, played 
so important a part in the history of modern thought, 
that a collective résumé of their opinions is not merely 


Xil INTRODUCTION 


permissible in a treatise of this kind, but even necessary. 

In setting forth the views of these men, we have 
confined ourselves to simple, concise statements of es- 
sentials. Had we endeavored to explain the subtle 
philosophical systems of a Fichte or Schopenhauer, for 
example, our book would have assumed forbidding di- 
mensions. Besides, it would have failed of its cen- 
tral purpose; whichis, to sum up in few and intelligible 
words how the great thinkers of the modern world 
stand in regard to the cardinal questions of religion. 

These questions have been reduced to two. In the 
first place, and essentially, we want to know how the 
men under consideration regard the teachings of Chris- 
tianity : can they be classed, on the whole, as orthodox 
believers, or must,they be included among the class of 
unbelievers? And if the latter, secondly, do they fall 
into the group of atheists, or do they still retain beliefs 
which may be designated as religious? More es-: 
pecially, and by way of criterion as to religious belief, 
do they avow the existence of a God, and do they pro- 
claim the immortality of the soul? 

Christianity is understood as it has been taught tra- 
ditionally throughout the centuries, not as it is coming 
to be viewed by many of its modern exponents. 
Though making use of the same historical material, 
the Christianity of certain recent theologians is a thing 
so unlike, in essentials, that which was formerly taught 
under the name, that it can hardly be classed as the 
same religion,—if indeed it can still be called a religion 
at all. This is not the place to consider which interpre- 
tation of Christianity, the old or the new, is correct; 
and so we shall merely regard and designate that as 


INTRODUCTION Xiil 


Christianity which has immemorially been called by the 
name, and which was promulgated from the pulpits at 
the time when most of our thinkers lived. 

In presenting the views of these thinkers, we have 
made liberal use of quotation. By so doing we have 
not only brought together a list of characteristic state- 
ments and thoughts, which may be welcome to many 
readers, but have also lessened the possibility of a mis- 
representation of doctrines. May the summaries which 
follow be of help to those of our readers who are 
earnestly seeking for instruction regarding the impor- 
taut problems of religion. 





THE RELIGION OF THIRTY GREAT 
THINKERS 


SEVENTEENTH CENTURY 





MILTON 


will not be possible to do more than announce 

their agreement with the doctrines of the church, 
which of course involved a belief in God and immortal- 
ity. The occidental world was still under the sway of 
an ecclesiastical tradition which had lasted a thousand 
years, and which made any radical deviation therefrom 
extremely difficult. The ordinary alternatives of the 
time were not those between belief and unbelief, but 
only between different forms of belief. A man might 
be a Catholic, Lutheran or Calvinist, but his Christian- 
ity was assumed as a matter of course. It was almost 
as unthinkable for him to embrace non-Christian prin- 
ciples as for a person in our midst to adopt the Moham- 
medan faith. Indeed, in some respects the difficulty 
was even greater. The only obstacles to such an adop- 
tion today are of an intellectual nature; but a renuncia- 
tion of the church in former centuries brought with it, 
not only the threat of eternal punishment in the life to 
come, but the certainty of ignominy and persecution in 
the present world. The fires which had consumed 
Bruno and Servetus were hardly extinguished, and 
Galileo’s recantation was echoing in the ears of men. 
The methods of persecution were becoming milder, to 
be sure, and toleration was beginning to spread its 
light, but there was still so much of stigma and legal 

3 


1 the case of most seventeenth century thinkers, it 


4 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


restriction put in the way of unbelievers that a depart- 
ure from established views demanded considerable 
moral and physical courage. 

However, it was not the threat of worldly disaster | 
that kept John Milton within the bounds of faith, but 
sincere, unfaltering conviction. His views on divorce 
were radical, to be sure, and he embraced opinions 
concerning the Saviour that placed him among the fol- 
lowers of Arius. Nevertheless, he was firm in his be- 
lief in the Bible. Even the opinions in which he de- 
viated from the multitude were the result of strict in- 
terpretation of that book. ‘Let us discard reason in 
sacred matters,’ he says, “and follow the doctrine of 
Holy Scripture exclusively.” 2 His views could doubt- 
less be deduced from his famous epics, Paradise Lost 
and Paradise Regained. But we also have a prose 
work from his pen, entitled A Treatise on Christian 
Doctrine, in which he has expressed himself on theologi- 
cal questions with the greatest clearness; and it seems 
preferable to base our examination on this unmistak- 
able depositary of belief, rather than to use a work in 
which theoretical convictions are clothed in the words 
of poetry. ; 

The work in question is a lengthy treatise, covering 
over six hundred pages. A peculiar circumstance is 
the fact that, although the existence of the treatise was 
known in Milton’s lifetime, it disappeared from view 
and was not discovered again until the recent date of 
1823. The first part of the work treats of the Knowl- 


1See Appendix. 
* Milton’s Prose Works, George Bell and Sons, London, 1887, 
Vol. IV, p. 87. 


MILTON 5 


edge of God, the second of his Worship. A character- 
istic feature is the extensive employment of Biblical 
quotations. All conclusions, indeed, are based directly 
on the words of Holy Writ, and reason merely serves 
to elucidate what is obscure or open to dispute in the 
same. Accordingly, we find that Milton is a thorough 
believer in Christian doctrine, without the slightest 
taint of skepticism. To be sure, his reliance on author- 
ity sometimes leads him to conclusions which were at 
variance with beliefs generally held. Thus he defends 
polygamy, as being in harmony with Biblical precedent. 
He rejects the contention that the Christian Sunday is 
merely a transferred Sabbath, to be kept after the man- 
ner of the Jews. And he shares the views of Arius, as 
mentioned, according to which the Son is inferior to 
the Father. But he does not go to the length of the 
Socinians, who deny the divinity of Christ. 

His belief in a Deity is based, apart from the author- 
ity of Holy Writ, on the arguments from design and 
from the moral nature in man. “There can be no 
doubt but that everything in the world, by the beauty 
of its order, and the evidence of a determinate and bene- 
ficial purpose which pervades it, testifies that some su- 
preme efficient Power must have pre-existed, by which 
the whole was ordained for a specific end... the 
existence of God is further proved by that feeling, 
whether we term it conscience, or right reason, which 
even in the worst of characters, is not altogether ex- 
tinguished. If there were no God, there would be no 
distinction between right and wrong; the estimate of 
virtue and vice would entirely depend on the blind opin- 
ion of men; none would follow virtue, none would be 


6 TD EUR DG ot Ad ST VSG ee os 


restrained from vice by any sense of shame, or fear of 
the laws, unless conscience or right reason did from 
time to time convince every one, however unwilling, 
of the existence of God, the Lord and ruler of all things, 
to whom, sooner or later, each must give an account of 
his own actions, whether good or bad.” 4 

Personally, Milton had some peculiar ideas as to the 
external observances of religion, at least in his later 
years. He did not attend divine services, and failed to 
insist on family prayers in his home.? But this did 
not impair the reality of his faith, which was sincere 
and genuine. He was a Christian pure and simple, 
without qualification of his essential creed or fluctua- 
tion in his sense of certitude. 

11 bids) VACIV pp. 14-15: 


2 See The Poetical Works of John Milton, Belford, Clarke & 
Co., Chicago and New York, 1884, p. xlv. 


LOCKE 


F Locke, too, there is not much to say: he was 
a believer in God, immortality, and the Bible. 
His belief in the existence of a deity, which he 
characterizes as the “most obvious truth that reason 
discovers,” and which for him is “equal to mathemati- 
cal certainty,’ is based on the so-called cosmological 
argument. The world cannot have been created out of 
nothing; it must have had an antecedent something con- 
taining all its powers and possibilities; but since the 
world contains consciousness as well as matter and mo- 
tion, this antecedent must likewise have been conscious ; 
so that we are justified in positing, as the causal basis 
of the world, ‘an eternal, most powerful, and most 
knowing Being.” * 

This Being is not conceived after the manner of the 
deists, as the object of natural religion, but communes 
with men in special revelations, under which term 
Locke of course has reference to the writings of the 
Bible. These carry absolute authority with them, 
whether the results “agree or disagree with common 
experience.” To be sure, he adds, we must be certain 
that the revelation is really of divine origin. Hence no 
revelation can have greater authority than the clear in- 

1See Locke’s Essay Concerning Human Understanding, The 
Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1894. Quotations from works of 
The Clarendon Press are made with the permission of the Oxford 


University Press, as publishers. 
7 


8 THIRTY GREA DS DIM RS 


sights of reason; for we can never have more coercive 
evidence for the supernatural origin of revelation than 
for the things which reason itself pronounces true. 
But where a thing transcends reason, or where reason 
does not carry us beyond mere probability, there reve- 
lation, when we are convinced of its authenticity, must 
be accepted as a guide to truth. 

Considering the times in which he lived, to be sure, 
even the unskeptical and orthodox attitude of Locke 
was liberal. He wrote in defense of toleration, and 
worked toward a unification of the various Christian 
sects in which the minute points on which they differed 
should be merged in the big underlying truths which 
they had in common. His Biblical criticism, likewise, 
was broad and rational, prefiguring the higher criticism 
of today. Hence we may regard it as likely that he 
would have swerved from the strict teachings of the 
church, had he lived at a later day. But we must take 
him as he is,—a child of the seventeenth century,—and 
thus we must characterize him as a thoroughgoing 
theist and an undoubted believer in the doctrines of the 
Christian religion. 


DESGAR DTS 


ESCARTES, in point of birth the first in our 
1) list of great thinkers, also stands for one of 

the foremost intellects of modern times. He 
was a brilliant mathematician, being famous as the 
creator of analytic geometry. But his main distinc- 
tion rests on the fact that he is the father of modern 
philosophy. It is to him that we owe the celebrated 
deduction Cogito ergo sum (I think, therefore I am), 
which may be regarded as the starting point both of 
his own speculations and of modern philosophy in 
general. 

Like most thinkers of his century, he was a believer 
in God and an adherent of Christianity. Indeed, crea- 
tive mind as he was, he showed his originality in this 
direction as well, and enriched the world with a new 
argument for the existence of the Deity. This is the 
so-called ontological proof, which, although advanced 
centuries before by Anselm of Canterbury, is generally 
accredited to Descartes, because of the clear and influ- 
ential statement it received from him. According to 
this argument, the existence of God is inferred from 
the idea which we have of him. I can only have re- 
ceived the idea of a being more perfect than myself 
from a being who actually is more perfect; and this is 
God. The argument was first brought forward in the 
famous Discourse on Method. The following quota- 

9 


10 DHIR DY 7 GRADS ERG RSE bos 


tion, from the Principles of Philosophy, serves to show 
the deference of our thinker to the revelations of the 
Bible: 

“We must impress on our memory the infallible rule, 
that what God has revealed is incomparably more cer- 
tain than anything else; and that we ought to submit 
our belief to the Divine authority rather than to our 
own judgment, even although perhaps the light of 
reason should, with the greatest clearness and evidence, 
appear to suggest to us something contrary to what is 
revealed: a) 

The quotation also illustrates the opposition which 
was felt by 17th century thinkers to exist between the 
truths of revelation and those of reason. We have 
already had occasion to note this in the cases of Milton 
and Locke. The whole matter, indeed, seems to have 
given the writers of this time a good deal of trouble. 
As yet, reason was kept in subjection, and where there 
was a conflict with revelation, it was obliged to yield. 
But the time was to come when this should be reversed, 
and already in Voltaire, who was born within a century 
of the men in question, we have reason stepping for- 
ward and serving as a criterion of the truth or untruth 
of religion. 

Descartes, as we have said, was a thorough-going 
Christian, but the whole tenor of his nature and writ- 
ings was such as to give rise to the suspicion that, had 
he lived a century or two later, he would have re- 
linquished his orthodoxy. It is a question in our mind, 


1 Descartes, The Method, Meditations, and Selections from the 
Principles, William Blackwood and Sons, Edinburgh and London, 
1897, p. 230. 


DES@AR LES UL 


indeed, whether his theological utterances may not have 
been prompted partly by worldly caution and fear. 
The experiences of Galileo, for example, are known to 
have made a deep impression on him. His philosophy 
tended toward a mechanical view of the universe, 
which, when carried to its logical conclusions, was 
likely to clash with the received views of a special Prov- 
idence. It is this feature of his work which displeased 
his countryman Pascal. “In all his philosophy,” he 
says, “he would have been quite willing to dispense 
with God. But he had to make Him give a fillip to set 
the world in motion; beyond this, he has no further 
need of God.’ ! The time was not yet ripe, however, 
for a complete break with the established faith, and so 
Descartes still continued to nestle under the wings of 
the Church. In our next sketch, on this same Pascal, 
we shall see the contrast of a man who was imbued 
with religion to the core, and to whom it was a pri- 
mary concern of existence. 


1 Pascal, Thoughts, London, 1904, No. 77. Quoted by per- 
mission of J. M. Dent & Sons, Ltd. and E. P. Dutton & Company. 


PASG is 


F all the men whom we are considering, none 
() was more truly religious than Pascal. Reli- 
gion in his case was not merely an affair of 

the mind, but permeated his entire being. It was the 
guiding star of his existence, determining his ideals and 
shaping his conduct. For it he not only gave up his 
worldly pleasures, but even neglected those higher in- 
tellectual pursuits for which he was so eminently fitted. 
“I hold out my arms to my Redeemer,” he said, 
“who, having been foretold for four thousand years, 
has come to suffer and to die for me on earth, at the 
time and under all the circumstances foretold. By His 
grace, I await death in peace, in the hope of being 
eternally united to Him. Yet I live with joy, whether 
in the prosperity which it pleases Him to bestow upon 
me, or in the adversity which He sends for my good, 
and which He has taught me to bear by His example.” } 
The religion in which Pascal thus found consolation 
was thoroughly Christian and orthodox, embracing all 
the usual tenets of the church regarding miracles, 
prophecies, and the like. Our author is firmly con- 
vinced of the reality of these things, and doubt in 
regard to them seems never to have entered his mind. 
It is to Pascal that we owe the celebrated ‘‘wager’’ 

1 Pascal, Thoughts, London, 1904, No. 737. Quoted by permis- 


sion of J. M. Dent & Sons, Ltd. and E. P. Dutton & Company. 
12 


fed Ne) Osea ls 13 


concerning the realities of the Unseen. Does God 
exist or not? Reason cannot give us the answer. Yet 
we cannot avoid a decision. We are adrift in life, and 
a choice is necessary. How then shall we decide? By 
a consideration of practical results. If we decide that 
God exists, we may gain everything, while losing noth- 
ing. But if we decide that he does not exist, we may 
lose everything. It behooves us, therefore, to cast our 
lot in favor of his existence. And if we are neverthe- 
less unable to do this, through logical obstacles, we 
must act as if we believed, take part in religious ob- 
servances, and the like, and belief will follow as a 
matter of course. 

The solution thus proposed may seem irrational to 
many people: it may appear unworthy of a thinking 
being to make the deepest concern of existence the sub- 
ject of a mere bet. And in fact, much criticism has 
been directed at this feature of Pascal’s philosophy. 
But it is not for us to take sides: we are merely pre- 
senting the views of great thinkers as we find them, 
and without comment. And so we submit the reason- 
ings of Pascal, likewise, as a unique contribution to the 
practical aspect of the problem. 


SPINOZA 


NE of the most interesting in our list of 
() thinkers is Spinoza. He was descended from 
a family of Portuguese Jews, who had mi- 

grated to Holland for the sake of religious liberty. 
But even in this land of comparative freedom he was 
not without his trials and persecutions. Having de- 
veloped views of a heterodox nature, he was excom- 
municated from the church of his fathers amid great 
commotion and execration; indeed, it is related that an 
attempt had even been made upon his life. The phi- 
losophy which he worked out in the course of a quiet, 
retired existence was destined to be of the greatest in- 
fluence on the world of thought. But his religious 
views are peculiarly difficult to state. By many he has 
been called an atheist. And to be sure, the God of 
whom he speaks has few of the traditional characteris- 
tics. There is nothing anthropomorphic about him, 
none of that personal, fatherly relation to the race that 
we are wont to attribute to the Deity. On the other 
hand, we are not justified in identifying his God with 
nature. [or nature is mechanical and unfeeling, while 
the “substance” of Spinoza has consciousness for an 
attribute. But this consciousness, once more, must not 
be conceived after the fashion of the theist. With the 
latter God is a spirit, and consciousness represents the 
essence of his being. In the case of the ‘“‘substance,” 

14 


SPINOZA Is 


consciousness is merely coordinate with extension, and 
both of these, again, are but two of its many attributes. 

A similar difficulty obtains in stating Spinoza’s views 
on immortality. At the end of his Ethics he says: 
“The human mind cannot be absolutely destroyed with 
the body, but there remains of it something which is 
eternal.” + This, however, can hardly be conceived as 
a personal immortality, for he likewise says: “The 
mind can only imagine anything, or remember what is 
past, while the body endures.” ? Viewing the matter 
in connection with the further statement that “in God 
there is necessarily an idea, which expresses the essence 
of this or that human body under the form of eter- 
nity,’ ® we may perhaps interpret Spinoza to mean that 
there is something in us that mirrors or partakes of 
God’s idea of us, and that insofar as we experience 
this we are immortal. But it would seem to be depth 
or quality of experience that he has in mind, rather 
than temporal duration. 

His views on the Bible and revelation are laid down 
in his ““Theologico-political Treatise.” We marvel, in 
reading this book, at the advanced opinions therein ex- 
pressed; indeed, if we were not aware that the work 
was written 250 years ago, we might imagine we were 
studying a product of modern criticism. An idea of 
the contents may be gained from the following 
quotations :— 

“We can only judge a man faithful or unfaithful 
by his works. If his works be good, he is faithful, 

1 Spinoza’s Works, George Bell and Sons, London, 1891, Vol. IT, 
p. 259. 


2 Tbid., p. 250. 
3 Tbid., p. 259. 


- 


16 HIRT Y sGREAT ION RB RS 


however much his doctrines may differ from those of 
the rest of the faithful: if his works be evil, though 
he may verbally conform, he is unfaithful. ... As 
for the Christian rites, such as baptism, the Lord’s 
Supper, festivals, public prayers, and any other observ- 
ances which are, and always have been, common to all 
Christendom, if they were instituted by Christ or His 
Apostles (which is open to doubt), they were instituted 
as external signs of the universal church, and not as 
having anything to do with blessedness, or possessing 
any sanctity in themselves. . . . Miracles are only in- 
telligible as in relation to human opinions, and merely 
mean events of which the natural cause cannot be 
explained by a reference to any ordinary occur- 
rence.® ... To say that everything happens accord- 
ing to natural laws, and to say that everything is or- 
dained by the decree and ordinance of God, is the same 
thing.” # 

The essential teaching of the book with reference to 
the truth and function of Holy Writ, seems to be that 
the Bible is not to be regarded as a depository of scien- 
tific or philosophic truth, but as a guide to right living. 
Conduct, rather than knowledge, is the object of its 
communications. “It demands from men nothing but 
obedience, and censures obstinacy, but not ignorance.” ® 

In the mode of life pointed out by Spinoza as yield- 
ing the highest happiness, we have an approximation 


1 Spinoza’s Works, George Bell and Sons, London, 1891, Vol. I, 
p. 185. 

2Ibid., p. 76. 

3 Tbid., p. 84. 

4 Ibid., p. 45. 

5 Ibid., p. 176. 


SPINOZA 17 


to the state of blessedness which is frequently the re- 
sult of religious conversion, but which in Spinoza’s 
case seems to have been either natural or arrived at 
without any special inner crisis. A similar state is 
attained by some people through a process analogous to 
conversion, but not religious in any specific or formal 
sense. We shall recur to this point in the course of 
our investigation. 


LEIBNITZ 


ably the most versatile thinker of modern 

times, was born in the year 1646, two years 
before the close of the thirty years’ war. Accord- 
ingly, he was a full-fledged child of the seventeenth 
century, and subject to all the religious influences of 
that time. True, we are told that at his funeral ‘no 
minister of religion was present; for Leibnitz was 
parcus deorum cultor et infrequens, and his absence 
from church was counted to him for irreligion, so that 
from priests and people he got the nickname Lévenix 
(the Low German for Glaubet nichts, believer in 
nothing).” " But this does not detract from the testi- 
mony of his writings, which show that he was a 
thorough believer in the truths of religion. 

“In addition to the world or aggregate of finite 
things,” says he, “there is some unique Being who goy- 
erns, not only like the soul in me, or rather like the 
Ego itself in my body, but in a much higher relation. 
For one Being dominating the universe not only rules 
the world but he creates and fashions it, is superior to 
the world, and, so to speak, extra mundane, and by 
this very fact is the ultimate reason of things.” 2 


(5 ae ten WILHELM LEIBNITZ, prob- 


tLatta, Leibniz, The Monadology and Other Philosophical 
Writings, The Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1808, p. 16. 
* The Philosophical Works of Leibnitz, Tuttle, Morehouse and 
Taylor, New Haven, 1890, p. i00. 
18 


LEIBNITZ 19 


Not only, however, did Leibnitz subscribe to the be- 
lief in God and immortality, he was also an adherent 
of Christian teachings. He defended the doctrine of 
the Trinity, as likewise the belief in the possibility of 
miracles and in eternal punishment. He labored as- 
siduously in behalf of the movement to bring about a 
union between Protestants and Catholics,—though 
without effect, as history teaches. One of the most 
widely known of his works is the Theodicy. In this 
he attempts to show that the universe as it exists is the 
best possible world. It is a classic treatise on opti- 
mism, and though its conclusions have frequently been 
assailed, there is no denying that it abounds with novel 
and suggestive reasonings. 

With Leibnitz we have come to the end of our 
seventeenth century thinkers. Barring a single excep- 
tion, they have been theists and believers in the Chris- 
tian religion. Spinoza was the only individual to 
stand apart from the group. But in his case the non- 
conformity, we imagine, was due to the fact that he 
was a Jew. From now on we shall notice a decided 
change. Berkeley, who is still rooted in the seven- 
teenth century, will once more repeat the familiar 
formula, but after we have passed him, we shall rarely 
meet with another writer who subscribes uncondition- 
ally to the accepted doctrines of Christianity. 





THE RELIGION OF THIRTY GREAT 
THINKERS 


EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 





BERKELEY 


Although thus falling within the eighteenth 
century, his roots extended into the seventeenth. 
He is the oldest of the ten men who constitute our 
eroup of eighteenth century thinkers. Besides him, 
the only one of these men to be born in the seventeenth 
century is Voltaire (1694-1778) ; the remaining eight 
come after the year 1700. This may account for 
Berkeley’s theological views, which coincide rather 
with those of the thinkers before his time than with 
those of the men who followed. Of the six thinkers 
preceding Berkeley, practically all, we have seen, were 
believers in God, as likewise Christians in a more or 
less orthodox sense. But of the twenty-four who have 
lived since, Berkeley is the only one who is strictly 
and unmistakably orthodox in his belief. The ma- 
jority of the twenty-four may broadly be called re- 
ligious, to be sure, and some may even be classed as 
Christians in a loose and liberal sense, but none sub- 
scribed unquestionably to the strict and traditional in- 
terpretation of Christianity. Hence it is plausible that 
our philosopher was influenced considerably, in form- 
ing his opinions, by the views that were current in the 
century of his birth. 
Another peculiarity of Berkeley is the fact that he 
is the only one of our thirty men who can be classed as 
23 


B Beever, was born in 1684 and died in 1753. 


24 CHER TY (GREAT Wal Nc Tee 


a theologian, 7. e., who was an official of the church for 
any considerable period of time. 

Berkeley’s unique position in the realm of philosophy- 
is due to the fact that he is the promulgator of the 
world-view known as idealism. In general, there are 
three ways of conceiving the world. To begin with, 
we may classify things as both mental and material. 
Our feelings, perceptions and ideas belong to the first 
category, the realm of objects and matter constitutes 
the second. This is the division made by Descartes; 
and it is a plausible, common-sense way of conceiving 
the universe, although serious difficulties arise as soon 
as we endeavor to explain the interaction between the 
two realms. Another way of describing the universe 
is to say that matter is fundamental, and mind is merely 
one of its manifestations. This is also a natural, 
common-sense view. It is based on the fact that the 
abiding mass of the universe is made up of matter, 
while mind is apparently of a sporadic, fleeting nature ; 
likewise on the well-known correspondence between 
thoughts and brain activities, and the apparent depen- 
dence of the former on the latter. A third alternative 
is to turn the tables about and declare that mind is 
fundamental, while matter is dependent on it. At first 
this seems to be a fantastic view, and as a matter of 
fact it required centuries of thought and speculation to 
bring it before the Occidental world, although the 
Oriental religions seem to have grasped it long ago. 
It is based on considerations like those of the actual 
mental nature of the so-called secondary qualities 
(sound, light, etc.), and on the deeper reasoning that 
we know nothing whatever of the world, unless it has 


BERKELEY 25 


first passed through the doors of perception. It is the 
view which has been upheld by the majority of great 
philosophers since Berkeley’s time, notably by the Ger- 
man idealists (Fichte, Schelling, Hegel, and Schopen- 
hauer). Berkeley, as said, is the one to have brought 
forward this view in the Occident, and he bases his 
conclusions on the most ingenious, subtle reasonings, 
into which, however, we cannot at present enter. Nor 
are we concerned so much with the view as such, as 
rather with its religious ramifications. In Berkeley’s 
hands, the philosophy which he has developed becomes 
a stout weapon with which to combat atheism and 
fortify the belief in God. Matter, he says, does not 
exist by itself, but only as it is perceived by sentient 
beings. However, it does not follow herefrom that 
the world is merely my private dream or hallucination. 
No, there are things that exist beyond me, only they 
are not of a “material” nature. They exist in a mind, 
but as they do not exist in my private mind alone, or 
in those of other finite beings, there must be an over- 
arching Divine Mind which is the basis of their being. 

“Sensible things cannot exist otherwise than in a 
mind or spirit. Whence I conclude, not that they have 
no real existence, but that, seeing they depend not on 
my thought, and have an existence distinct from being 
perceived by me, there must be some other mind 
wherein they exist. As sure, therefore, as the sensi- 
ble world really exists, so sure is there an infinite omni- 
present Spirit, who contains and supports it.” * 
- Berkeley’s idealistic philosophy was also the basis 


1 Berkeley's Works, The Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1871, Vol. J, 
Pp. 304. 


26 THIRTY, GREAT THINKERS 


of his belief in immortality, of which he was a fervent 
defender. He was a stout champion of the Christian 
religion, and one of his works, Alciphron: or The 
Minute Philosopher, was written as an apology for 
the same, “against those who are called Free- 
Thinkers.” The date of. publication was 1732, and 
the book was called forth by the growing tendency 
toward skepticism and unbelief at the time it was writ- 
ten. The subjection of reason to faith, of which we 
have spoken on a previous page, was coming to an end, 
and the spirit of inquiry was extending even to re- 
ligious matters. Berkeley, however, was still rooted 
in the ancient beliefs. He was a Christian pure and 
simple, and he seems never to have entertained any 
serious doubts concerning the doctrines which he taught 
as a servant of the church. 


HUME 


see the change of thought which had characterized 
the passing of the seventeenth century. Whereas 
most of the thinkers previously considered were adher- 
ents of Christianity, as has been said, Hume is gen- 
erally recognized as an opponent of the established 
creed; by some, indeed, he is even classed as an atheist. 
One of his most widely known writings on religious 
topics is the essay on Miracles. This is a classic ut- 
terance, and has been the basis of endless controversies. 
The substance of the essay is to be found in the idea 
that the truth or falsity of a statement must be tested 
with a reference to the reliability underlying statements 
in general. Experience is the basis of our trust in the 
words of others. But when the thing that is stated 
runs counter to experience, we must weigh the oppos- 
ing probabilities, and decide accordingly. People as a 
rule tell the truth; but they also lie at times, and they 
are often deceived. So when a thing is vouched for 
which is utterly opposed to experience, we must ask 
ourselves: is it more likely that this unheard-of thing 
really occurred, or that somebody lied or was deluded? 
So far as miracles are concerned, which run contrary 
to experiences so uniform as to be dignified by the 
term laws of nature, there can be no evidence strong 
enough to make us believe in their occurrence. 
27 


|: Hume, the greatest of English philosophers, we 


28 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


In spite of this anti-biblical reasoning, it appears 
from various passages in his writings that Hume be- 
lieved in a deity, whose traces are visible in the marks 
of design throughout nature. “Though the stupidity 
of men, barbarous and uninstructed, be so great, that 
they may not see a sovereign author in the more obvious 
works of nature, to which they are so much familiar- 
ized; yet it scarcely seems possible, that any one of 
good understanding should reject that idea, when once 
it is suggested to him.” } 

To be sure, as Huxley points out, statements like 
these are so emphatically contradicted by other con- 
clusions of Hume’s philosophy, as to leave them with 
but little force.? Whether or not Hume was aware 
of these contradictions, I would not attempt to decide. 

A peculiar dilemma of this kind forces itself on 
the reader who studies the arguments of the little es- 
say: Of the Immortality of the Soul. The essay be- 
gins as follows: 

“By the mere light of reason it seems difficult to 
prove the Immortality of the Soul. The arguments 
for it are commonly derived either from metaphysical 
topics, or moral, or physical. But in reality, it is the 
gospel, and the gospel alone, that has brought life and 
immortality to light.” 3 

Then follow condensed reasonings which either de- 
stroy the force of current arguments for immortality, 


1Hume, Essays: Moral, Political and Literary, Longmans, 
Green and Company, 1912, Vol. II, p. 361. 

*See Huxley, Hume, D. Appleton and Company, 1914, p. 173 
et seq. 

3 Hume, Essays: Moral, Political and Literary, Longmans, 
Green and Company, Vol. II, p. 399. 


HUME 29 


or tend positively to prove the mortality of the soul. 
We are told that the soul, if immortal, must likewise 
have been preéxistent. But as we are in no wise af- 
fected by what happened before our birth, the same 
will probably be true of the after life as well. The 
body and soul vary together: fluctuations in the one 
are accompanied by fluctuations in the other. Hence 
it is natural to conclude that the destruction of the 
former will be accompanied by a similar destruction 
of its concomitant. Animals show great analogy to 
human beings, yet we do not believe in their immortal- 
ity. As for eternal punishments, they are so utterly 
out of proportion to the offenses committed, that they 
are beyond justification. 

Now, after proving by every argument within his 
reach that immortality is improbable, Hume suddenly 
swings about and concludes the essay with the follow- 
ing remarkable statement: “Nothing could set in a 
fuller light the infinite obligations which mankind have 
to Divine revelation; since we find, that no other me- 
dium could ascertain this great and important truth.” ? 
It is improbable that Hume really believed in the mes- 
sage of revelation, otherwise he would not have written 
concerning miracles as he did. The conclusion is 
plausible, therefore, that he was not convinced by the 
Biblical statements concerning immortality, but intro- 
duced them for special reasons. Possibly he abstained 
from direct assertions from prudential motives, and 
chose this ingenious method of imparting his thoughts. 

All in all, we may conclude with Huxley, that 
Hume was not overburdened theologically. We are 


1[bid., p. 406. 


30 THIRTY: GREAT THINKERS 


merely justified, on the basis of his writings, in attrib- 
uting to him a belief in a deity. But it does not seem 
that he shared the belief in the soul’s immortality, and 
he was certainly not a Christian in the narrow, ac- 
cepted meaning of the term. 


VOLTAIRE 


OLTAIRE is known as one of the sharpest and 
\) most effective opponents of the Christian 
faith. Many years of his life were devoted 
to the task of crushing “l’infdme,’ as he called the 
church. For this he has been criticised severely. But, 
though he was unsparing in his attacks and availed 
himself of every resource of sarcasm and ridicule at 
his command, it must be remembered that his warfare 
was largely called forth by and directed at the abuses 
of the church. That these were numerous is well 
known to everyone familiar with French history. One 
of the occurrences which were especially effective in 
arousing Voltaire’s indignation was the judicial mur- 
der by the authorities of Toulouse of a Protestant citi- 
zen named Jean Calas. He devoted years of investiga- 
tion and agitation to this matter, and finally succeeded 
in having the verdict overthrown and the dead man’s 
innocence established. Dogmatically, too, the church 
was narrow and severe in Voltaire’s day, and tolerance 
was a virtue but little practised by its votaries. So 
that, if the criticisms and arguments of our philosopher 
were at times rather superficial, failing to take account 
of the deeper nature of religion, we must remember that 
he fought against teachings and pretensions that were 
by no means characterized by the opposite qualities. 
Furthermore, it is a mistake to classify Voltaire as an 
31 


32 THIRTY GREAT TRUNK ERS 


atheist. He was firmly convinced of the existence of 
a deity, and was vigorous in his opposition to those 
who would do away with all religion whatsoever. 

Voltaire’s views were embodied in numerous trea- 
tises, which were often circulated secretly, on account 
of the bold and unusual nature of their contents. The 
following are a few characteristic utterances selected 
from the writings of this keen controversialist. 

“Ts the book of Genesis to be taken literally or alle- 
gorically? Did God really take a rib from Adam and 
make woman therewith? and, if so, why is it previously 
stated that he made man male and female? How did 
God create light before the sun? How did he separate 
light from darkness, since darkness is merely the ab- 
sence of light? How could there be a day before the 
sun was made? How was the firmament made amid 
the waters, since there is no such thing as a firma- 
ment?’ +? “We owe great respect to David, who was 
a man after God’s heart; but I fear I am not learned 
enough to justify, by ordinary laws, the conduct of 
David in associating with four hundred men of evil 
ways, and burdened with debt, as the Scripture says; 
in going to sack the house of the king’s servant Nabal, 
and marrying his widow a week later; in offering his 
services to Achish, the king’s enemy, and spreading 
fire and blood over the land of the allies of Achish, 
without sparing either age or sex; in taking new concu- 
bines as soon as he is on the throne; and, not content 
with these concubines, in stealing Bathsheba from her 


1 Voltaire, Toleration and Other Essays, (translated by Jos. 
McCabe), New York and London, Ig12, p. 185. The quotations 
from this volume are made with the permission of G. P. Putnam’s 
Sons. 


VOLTAIRE 33 


husband, whom he not only dishonours, but slays.” * 


As is apparent, Voltaire exhibited in detail what is 
contrary to reason and morality in the Holy Scriptures. 
He exposed contradictions, ridiculed errors, and con- 
demned misdeeds, even when performed with the sanc- 
tion of religion. But there was a more positive side 
to his reasonings, as we have said, and the two follow- 
ing passages give evidence thereof. 

“There is a single, universal, and powerful intelli- 
gence, acting always by invariable laws.” ? ‘“O God, 
keep from us the error of atheism which denies thy 
existence, and deliver us from the superstition that out- 
rages thy existence and fills ours with horror.” ° 

Like Rousseau, of whom we shall speak in a moment, 
our thinker held fast to the belief in a supreme being 
at a time when atheism and materialism were claiming 
the allegiance of so many of his countrymen. His 
position, in short, was that of the man who avoids 
both extremes; and though he devoted more of his 
energy to the demolition of superstition and dogma, 
he was also assiduous in combating what he considered 
to be the dangerous spread of infidelity. 

1J[bid., p. 195. 


2 Ibid., p. 200. 
Be Dida pandOls 


ROUSSEAU 


OUSSEAU’S views on religion were in de- 
R cided contrast to those of the men among 

whom he lived. While atheism was the 
watchword of the day, Rousseau proclaimed his belief 
in the reality of higher things. And yet, though he had 
the courage to lift his voice in defense of doctrines 
which were deemed outworn, it was his fate to be 
hounded in the name of that which he defended. Cer- 
tain views which he had published being in conflict with 
the narrower teachings of the church, he was obliged to 
flee from France. He passed from place to place, being 
_ persecuted wherever he went, until he finally found ref- 
uge across the English Channel. 

His views are embodied in a section of his well- 
known work on education entitled Emile. The first 
part of this “confession” is positive, the second is 
largely negative. In the first we have a statement of 
belief as to the essentials of religion, the second is a 
criticism of revelation. 

Rousseau is fully convinced of the existence of God. 
The argument which he advances to support his faith 
is similar to that of Locke’s, referred to on a pre- 
vious page. Dead matter cannot account for a uni- 
verse containing motion and intelligence, chance can- 
not explain the beautiful adaptations manifested in 
the world about us. As to immortality, the body may 

34 


ROUSSEAU 35 


be destroyed and the soul continue to live. These 
views form a sort of natural religion. He is surprised 
that there should be any need of revealed religion. 
The former is sufficient in regard to essentials, and so 
far as the externals of worship are concerned, that is a 
matter which can be arranged without recourse to reve- 
lation. His main criticism of revelation is, that there 
are so many difficulties in the way of our recognizing 
and believing it, that it would be unjust to make our 
lot in eternity depend on that recognition and belief. 
There are so many books to be examined, sources and 
dates to be verified, errors to be guarded against, falsi- 
fications to be excluded, that it would take a lifetime 
to work one’s way through such a mass of materials. 
There would be no time for anything else. People 
would be obliged to give up their occupations and cease- 
lessly wander about from country to country, in order 
to make their verifications at the source. And even 
then they would be fortunate if, when they came to die, 
they had arrived at any definite conclusions. 

As to the doctrine of eternal punishment, Rousseau’s 
judgment remains in abeyance, though he inclines 
toward its rejection. In regard to Christ and the 
gospels, however, he is more favorable to traditional 
views. ‘‘Can a book at once so grand and so simple 
be the work of men? Is it possible that he whose his- 
tory is contained in this book is no more than man? 

. if the life and death of Socrates are those of a 
philosopher, the life and death of Christ are those of 
ere cLiavcs 


1 Rousseau, Emile, pp. 271 and 272. Quoted by permission of 
J. M. Dent & Sons, Ltd. and E. P. Dutton & Company. 


36 DHIR TY GREASY DEM is 


But as to the great body of doctrines taught by the 
Christian religion, his verdict remains suspended. He 
finds much that speaks for the same, much that points 
against. In consequence, he refuses to take sides, and 
rests satisfied with the conclusions which reason alone 
has taught him to accept. But he believes in adhering 
to the religious practices to which one is accustomed, 
or at least in allowing others to do so without inter- 
ference. Such externalities, he contends, may have 
their special reasons, in time, place, government and 
the like, and should not lightly be thrown overboard. 
For we can never be sure that it will be good for people 
to reject the religious ceremonies which are enjoined 
by the laws, while we are sure that it is wrong to break 
the laws. 

A certain inconsistency in Rousseau’s views may be 
mentioned, in spite of our general purpose of abstain- 
ing from critical remarks. If the life and death of 
Christ are those of a God, and the gospels are not the 
work of men, how can we have any doubts as to revela- 
tion? Why all the preceding uncertainty and argu- 
ment, as to which is the true religion? Admit the 
superhuman authorship of the books on which the New 
Testament is based, and the whole question, it seems, 
is forthwith settled. We must then accept everything 
that is recorded in the writings under consideration, 
and the truth of Christianity is at once established. 

However, ignoring this inconsistency, we wish to 
express our admiration for the courage with which this 
French enthusiast proclaimed both his words of assent 
and of dissent, and likewise for the eloquence of the 
language in which he clothed his words. As for the 


ROUSSEAU 37 


content of his message, he is a typical example of the 
modern spirit; he illustrates what we shall henceforth 
observe with the greatest regularity: belief in the fun- 
damentals of religion, coupled with a rejection of all 
that is narrow and dogmatic in the same. 


HOLBACH 


P AHE subject of this sketch, as mentioned in the 
introduction, has not been included in the 
present volume because he was personally one 

of the greatest thinkers, but rather because he was the 

representative of a highly influential group of men. 

Some of these belonged to the “Encyclopedists’” who 

made France famous during the eighteenth century, and 

all were mouthpieces of the ideas characterizing the 

French “illumination.” The illumination also included 

men like Voltaire, to be sure, who did not share the 

destructive religious views of their more radical 
confréres, but on the whole its philosophy was char- 
acterized by an atheistic and materialistic trend. Con- 
dillac, Helvetius, Diderot, and La Mettrie were some 
of the writers who typified the movement. Condillac 
carried to their legitimate conclusions the ideas of 

Locke as to the sensational origin of our mental life, 

though still retaining the belief in a deity. Helvetius 

reduced the springs of conduct to self-interest or 
pleasure. La Mettrie boldly proclaimed the doctrine 
of philosophic materialism and designated the soul as 

a function of the body. Holbach, finally, summed up 

these various lines of thought in the System of Nature, 

which has been called the atheists’ Bible, and which 
may be regarded as the confession of faith of the 


illumination in its final consummation. 
38 


HOLBACH 30 


There is some doubt as to the authorship of this 
work. Various men probably collaborated in its prep- 
aration, such as Diderot, Lagrange and Grimm, but 
the work as a whole is generally ascribed to the Baron 
von Holbach, at whose hospitable board many of the 
foremost thinkers of the day were wont to congregate. 
It is here that Hume on a certain occasion expressed 
doubt as to the existence of atheists, whereupon he was 
informed by his genial host that he was even then din- 
ing in the company of seventeen such men. The work 
was highly treasured by Shelley, at least in his youth, 
but Goethe found it uncongenial, by reason of the 
cold and mechanical view of the world which it ex- 
pressed. 

Atheism is the creed taught by the System of Nature. 
Religion is condemned, not only because it was false, 
but because it was believed to have added to the misery 
of the world. And progress was to be attained through 
the abandonment of all creeds. Man is a material crea- 
ture. Freedom of the will does not exist. Thought 
is a product of his brain, and fails to outlive its 
physiological support. Self-interest and pleasure are 
the only ultimate ends of action,’ but this does not 
justify ignoble modes of life, for our truest interest 
involves a consideration of the interests of others. 

There can be no doubt that the destructive character 
of these views, so far as religion is concerned, had its 
basis in the abuses of the church, which were real, and 
which we had occasion to note when speaking of Vol- 
taire. Men were tired of intolerance and superstition, 
and were longing to be freed from the fetters by which 
they had so long been held chained. They were sincere 


40 DEAR TD YS GRIER AOE CDE iL Ee bxis 


in the belief that human reason alone, without the aid 
of tradition or authority, would lead to the golden age. 
They shot beyond the mark of course. The philosophy 
of the illumination was superficial and one-sided, and 
religion was more deeply rooted in the mind than it had 
imagined. But it served its purpose at the time. It 
was a phase of thought that was honestly held, and 
that produced lasting results, both theoretically and 
practically, of a most profound and beneficial character. 


KANT 


VROM France we pass to Germany, and are at 


once met by an intellectual luminary of the first 

magnitude. Kant may be regarded as the 
greatest of modern philosophers, if not indeed the 
greatest of all times. Hence his religious views are 
of especial interest. 

A prominent part of his work, The Critique of Pure 
Reason, is that in which he destroys the validity of the 
traditional arguments for the existence of a deity, 1.e., 
the so-called cosmological, teleological, and ontological 
proofs. It was his opinion that the existence of God 
could not be demonstrated. However, it does not 
follow that he disbelieved in God. Though insuscep- 
tible of proof, both God and immortality are, according 
to him, implications of our moral nature. The moral 
law exists, and demands unconditional obedience. And 
though the idea of happiness as the result of obedience 
must not enter into the motives impelling us toward 
moral action, happiness ought reasonably to be con- 
joined with such action. However, since this demand 
is not satisfied in our mundane life, we must postulate 
another life in which it may be, and a God who will 
guarantee the satisfaction. 

This moral argument for the existence of God is an 
important contribution to the thought of our times, and 

Al 


42 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


has had the greatest influence on the philosophy sub- 
sequent to Kant’s day. 

The philosopher’s views regarding the more intimate 
questions of theology are laid down in the book entitled 
Die Religion innerhalb der Grenzen der blossen 
Vernunft. In general, it may be said that he does not 
accept Christianity literally, but agrees with its essence 
and spirit. He clothes his own ideas regarding the 
true religion in the forms and terminology of Chris- 
tianity; though the result at times seems rather forced, 
and we can hardly repress the feeling that the agree- 
ment which he finds is not one which was spontaneously 
recognized, but deliberately sought after and wrought 
out. Yes, we are even tempted to think that the stern 
hand of the law, which in his day still hovered over the 
domain of thought, and the shadow of which caused 
him for a season to abstain altogether from lecturing 
or writing on religious subjects, may have had some- 
thing to do with the result. 

Be this as it may, Kant agrees with the Christian 
doctrine in its acceptance of God and immortality; 
likewise in its insistence on good deeds as the outcome 
of a good will, and on a necessary regeneration of 
human nature. In other respects, however, the Chris- 
tian doctrine is interpreted allegorically; while much 
that has from time immemorial been regarded as 
essential is merely tolerated as a useful accessory, if 
not cast overboard as an incumbrance. Morality is 
the essence of religion, and whatever tends to under- 
mine this is condemned. Thus faith, in the sense of a 
belief in historical occurrences, and by means of which 


KANT 43 


salvation may be attained, is held to be of no im- 
portance. 

“The reading of these holy writings, or the investt- 
gation of their contents, has the making of better 
human beings for its final purpose; the historical part, 
however, which contributes nothing thereto, is some- 
thing that is absolutely indifferent by itself, which 
one may regard as one will.” 4 

In fact, “everything which, beyond the good conduct 
of life, man believes he can do in order to become 
agreeable to God, is mere religious delusion and false 
worship.” 2 For example, prayer “‘as an inner, formal 
act of worship, and thus considered as a means of 
grace, is a superstitious delusion” ; baptism in itself 1s 
“no holy act, or act which produces holiness and re- 
ceptivity for divine mercy’’;* and the Lord’s Supper 
likewise has no inherent purifying power. All histor- 
ical faith, indeed, while valuable for the introduction 
of religious ideas, will finally be given up, and make 
way for the purely rational religion. 

Personally Kant embodied all these views in his life. 
He was upright and conscientious above criticism. 
Duty was his pole-star. But he had no regard for 
mere outward observances; “for many years he never 
attended church, and observed no religious usages what- 
ever." + 


1Kant, Die Religion innerhalb der Grenzen der blossen Ver- 
nunft, Leopold Voss, Leipzig, 1838, p. 132. 

2dbid., p. 205. 

3 Ibid., p. 235 et seq. 

4Stuckenberg, Life of Immanuel Kant, Macmillan and Com- 
pany, London, 1882, p. 354. 


44 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


The views of Kant regarding philosophy and religion 
were the starting point of the speculations of Fichte, 
that second great luminary of German idealism, who 
carried the teaching of the master to its logical con- 
clusions, and bridged the way to Schelling and Hegel. 
Let us continue our series of expositions with a con- 
sideration of this brilliant thinker. 


FICHTE 


r “HAT Fichte was not a Christian in the strict 
and narrow acceptation of the term may be 
surmised from the fact that he was attacked, 

while professor at Jena, for his alleged atheism. Not- 
withstanding, he was religious in a deeper sense, and 
even insisted that his views agreed with the kernel of 
Christianity, especially with the gospel according to 
St. John. He went through two phases or periods of 
belief. By some these are regarded as distinct and 
separate, by others the second is considered as an out- 
growth and continuation of the first. His earlier views 
are expressed in the essay entitled Ueber den Grund 
unseres Glaubens an eine gottliche Weltregierung,— 
the very essay, in fact, which brought forth the attacks 
referred to. Follow a few quotations: 

“Our world is the embodied material of our duty. 
... This is the only possible confession of faith: 
cheerfully and unconstrainedly to do whatever duty 
commands, without doubt and calculation as to the 
results. . . . The faith just deduced is likewise the 
whole and complete faith. This living and active 
moral order is God himself ; we need no other God, and 
can grasp no other.” ? 

In his later period he passes beyond this position, and 


1 Fichte, Simmtliche Werke, Veit und Comp. Berlin, 1845, Vol. 
V, pp. 185-6. 


45 


46 UHRURDY: GREAT PEERS 


maintains that the “blessed life’”’ (here on earth) is to 
be obtained, not merely through right doing, but 
through union with and love of “God.” In this respect 
there is essential agreement, according to our philoso- 
pher, between his views and Christianity. It is wrong, 
however, to interpret Christianity in the narrow his- 
toric sense, and though Fichte refers to Christ in words 
that are most reverential, he would not have us regard 
him as the unique Son of God, through whom we are 
saved vicariously. “Only the Metaphysical, by no 
means the Historical, makes us blessed; the latter only 
makes us intelligent. Ifa person is united to God and 
has penetrated into him, it is wholly immaterial in 
which way he has arrived at this end; and it would be 
a very useless and perverse task perpetually to renew 
the memory of the way, instead of living in the thing 
itsel ta 

There is similarity between the blessedness of which 
Fichte speaks and Spinoza’s intellectual love of God; 
likewise between the same and the state of affirmation 
described in Carlyle’s “Everlasting Yea.” These 
writers seem to have grasped a common idea, and this 
idea bears resemblance to the teachings both of Chris- 
tianity and Buddhism. The question inevitably rises 
whether the basis in all these cases is not the same, and 
whether a profound law of our being is not here being 
touched, which has not as yet been fathomed, but of 
which great prophets and thinkers have occasionally 
gained a glimpse. 


1[bid., p. 485. 


LESSING 


a “QHE three great classicists of German literature 
were Lessing, Schiller, and Goethe. A com- 
mon feature of their religious attitude is 

their repudiation of Christianity in its narrower sense, 

but their affirmation of the broader and more general 
tenets of religion. 

Lessing’s religious views are to be studied in the 
controversial writings with Pastor Goeze, the essay 
entitled The Education of the Human Race, and the 
drama of tolerance, Nathan the Wise. The Goeze 
writings were called forth by Lessing’s editing and 
publishing of the so-called Wolfenbittel Fragments, 
written by his friend Reimarus, and foreshadowing the 
“higher criticism’ of today. Goeze was an exponent 
of the rigid Lutheranism of eighteenth century 
Germany, and in expounding his views he drew forth 
from Lessing a statement of faith which, although 
familiar today, must have seemed destructive and even 
sacrilegious at the time. A selection from the “Axio- 
mata” which form the chapter headings of one of 
his brilliant polemics, will bear out this statement: 

“The Bible evidently contains more than belongs to 
religion. It is a mere hypothesis that the Bible is 
equally infallible in this “more.” The letter is not 
the spirit, and the Bible is not synonymous with relig- 
ion. Hence objections to the letter and the Bible are 

47 


48 THIRTY GREAVES D EDEN toh his 


not for that reason objections to the spirit and religion. 
Religion is not true because the evangelists and apostles 
taught it: but they taught it because it is true.” 

In the treatise on the Education of the Human Race 
Lessing develops the idea that revelation is a means of 
guiding humanity toward its higher destinies. ‘What 
education is for the individual, revelation is for the 
human race as a-whole.” A necessary corollary of 
this proposition is, that there is a conscious power 
which controls the destinies of mankind and which is 
the source of the revelation. This indicates that Less- 
ing was not an atheist. But it is equally clear, from 
the detailed contents of the treatise, that his view of 
revelation is radically different from that of the ortho- 
dox believer. According to the latter, the primary aim 
of revelation is to guide humanity toward the attain- 
ment of salvation. According to Lessing, it is to im- 
prove life on the planet, and more specifically to bring 
about an era in which virtue shall be followed for its 
own sake, and not for the sake of mundane or trans- 
mundane rewards. Hence Lessing speaks of a third 
revelation, following that of the Old and New Testa- 
ments, through which the latter will be superseded. 

The liberality of his views is attested most beautifully 
in his drama of brotherly love, Nathan the Wise. The 
three religions—Judaism, Mohammedanism, and Chris- 
tianity—are here compared, both by means of the 
characters in the play and the thoughts expressed, with 
the result that none is condemned and none exalted at 
the expense of the other two. All three are recognized 
as valuable, but love and humanity are rated still higher, 
as qualities which they are supposed to foster. 


LESSING 49 


The parable of the rings embodies the central idea 
of the play. Its length precludes its reproduction here. 
It is one of the most beautiful lessons in forbearance 
and tolerance ever penned by the hand of man, and 
will amply repay a perusal on the part of those who 
have never read its inspired words. 


SCHTEERR 


\ 

F Schiller the same can be said as of Lessing: 
he was religious in a deeper sense, but emanci- 
pated from the narrow forms and observances 


of the church. Highly characteristic is the aphorism 
in which he expresses his faith: 


Which religion do I profess? None of those 
That you name—Why none? Because of religion. 


As a youth, to be sure, it was his intention to devote 
himself to a clerical career; but once having outgrown 
the narrow doctrines of Christianity as they were taught 
in his day, he never embraced them again. In a letter 
to Goethe he says: 

“A healthy and beautiful nature—as you yourself 
say—requires no moral code, no law for its nature, no 
political metaphysics. You might as well have added 
that it requires no godhead, no idea of immortality 
wherewith to support and to maintain itself.’’ 4 

Very significant, too, is a passage from a letter to 
Korner: 

‘“Herder’s sermon pleased me more that any that I 
have ever heard in my life—but I must candidly con- 
fess that in general no sermon pleases me. ... A 
sermon is for the ordinary man—the man of thought 


1 Correspondence between Goethe and Schiller, George Bell and 
Sons, London, 1877, Vol. I, p. 199. 
50 


SCHILLER St 


who champions it is a person of limited faculties, a 
dreamer, or a hypocrite.” * 

All this, however, must not blind us to the essen- 
tially ethical and religious nature of his writings,— 
in fact of his entire being. Duty, heroism, liberty, 
and brotherly love were the themes on which he never 
tired to dwell, and which he embodied in works that 
were truly religious in their fervor and exaltation. 
Religion, in fact, permeated his whole life. He dwelt 
in a higher realm than the ordinary: every day was 
for him a Sabbath, his vocation was a priestly office, 
and poetry as he conceived it a eulogy of the Eternal! 

Nor did he deny the cardinal doctrines of religion, 
in their more general sense. He believed in God, as 
likewise in a continuation of life beyond the grave. 

Carlyle speaks, in a passage which we shall later 
reproduce, of the things which a man practically has 
faith in, of his deep and vital relations to the mys- 
terious Universe, which he lays to heart, and does not 
merely assent to in verbal confessions. This, he says, 
is the important thing for the man, and constitutes his 
religion or no-religion. In the light of this statement, 
let us consider the following words from one of Schil- 
ler’s well-known prose writings: 

“Think, O Raphael, of a truth that benefits the whole 
human race to remote ages; add that this truth con- 
demns its confessor to death—that this truth can only 
be proved and believed if he dies. Conceive this man, 
gifted with the clear all-embracing and illuminating 
eye of genius, with the flaming torch of enthusiasm, 


1 Schiller’s Briefwechsel mit Korner, Veit und Comp. Leipzig, 
1878, Vol. I, p. 86. 


52 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


with all the sublime adaptations for love: let the grand 
ideal of this great effect be presented to his soul; let 
him have only an obscure anticipation of all the happy 
beings he will make; let the present and future crowd 
at the same time into his soul; and then answer me,— 
does this man require to be referred to a future life?” 1 

Would it be possible to have a nobler “practical 
belief” than this, or vital relations to the “mysterious 
Universe” more exalted? And does the fact that this 
attitude does not rest on specific religious considera- 
tions detract from its value? Truly, the person who 
can feel and speak like this must be included among 
the most devout of human beings, among those who 
are essentially and thoroughly religious. 


1Schiller, Essays: Esthetical and Philosophical, George Bell 
and Sons, London, 1884, p. 338. 


GOETHE 


OETHE lived to the ripe age of eighty-three 
(5 years. Hence he went through many changes 

of feeling and belief which a younger man 
might not have experienced. The same was true of 
his religious views. He never was a Christian in the 
narrow sense, still less the adherent of a special sect. 
But as the years rolled on the antagonism which he 
had at times felt and expressed toward the religion 
of the Nazarene was softened, and gave way to a 
spirit of conciliation. 

On the whole, we may say that Goethe’s views co- 
incided with those of Lessing and Schiller. Though 
not an orthodox believer, he was religious in a deeper 
sense, and repeatedly affirmed his belief in a deity and 
immortality. 

What he disliked about creeds was.their narrowness, 
their insistence on special possession of truth. In his 
eyes, all forms of religion had value, but none was the 
sole depository of truth. Indeed, the Godhead re- 
vealed itself in aspects of life that lay entirely out- 
side of the church,—in nature, art, science, philosophy, 
and history. 

His attitude is indicated in the following aphorism: 


Whoever art and science has, 
Religion calls his own; 
53 


54 THIRTY GREAT CHINE RS 


But who these two does not possess, 
Let him religion own. 


Highly a propos is the scene in Faust where Mar- 
garet questions her lover concerning his _ beliefs. 
Though it is generally difficult to determine to what 
extent an author’s characters express his own convic- 
tions, yet it is likely, from all that we know of Goethe, 
that the words of Faust represent the poet’s personal 
views. 


MARGARET 
How 1st with thy religion, pray? 
Thou art a dear, good-hearted man, 
And yet, I think, dost not incline that way. 


FAUST 
Leave that, my child! Thou know’st my love is 
tender; 
For love, my blood and life would I surrender, 
And as for Faith and Church, I grant to each his 
own. 


MARGARET 
That’s not enough: we must believe thereon. 


FAUST 
Must we? 


MARGARET 


Would that I had some influence! 
Then, too, thou honorest not the Holy Sacraments. 


GOETHE 56 


FAUST 
I honor them. 


MARGARET 
Desiring no possession. 
Tis long since thou hast been to mass or to con- 
fesston. 
Believest thou in God? 


FAUST 
My darling, who shall dare 
“I believe in God!” to say? 
Ask priest or sage the answer to declare, 
And it will seem a mocking play, 
A sarcasm on the asker. 


MARGARET 
Then thou believest not! 


FAUST 


Hear me not falsely, sweetest countenance! 
Who dare express Him? 

And who profess Him, 

Saying: I believe in Him! 

Who, feeling, seeing, 

Deny His being, 

Saying: I believe Him not! 

The All-enfolding, 

The All-upholding, 

Folds and upholds he not 

Thee, me, Himself? 

Arches not there the sky above us? 


56 THIRT Yo GRE ACAD TITN IG cs 


Lies not beneath us, firm, the earth? 
And rise not, on us shining, 
Friendly, the everlasting stars? 
Look I not, eye to eye, on thee, 
And feel’st not, thronging 
To head and heart, the force, 
Still weaving its eternal secret, 
Invisible, visible, round thy life? 
Vast as tt 1s, fill with that force thy heart, 
And when thou im the feeling wholly blessed art, 
Call it, then, what thou wilt,— 
_ Call it Bliss! Heart! Love! God! 
I have no name to give it! 
Feeling is all in all: 
The Name is sound and smoke, 
Obscuring Heaven's clear glow.1 


Faust, the greatest work of Goethe, makes liberal 
use of Christian material, and ends with the salva- 
tion of the hero. The work, however, is largely of 
a symbolical nature, whence it would be rash to draw 
any conclusions from it regarding the author’s reli- 
gious views. Mythological characters, for example, 
are introduced in the work without a thought as to 
their reality; and it surely did not occur to Goethe 
to depict a really existent personage in the character 
of Mephistopheles. But even if we are disposed to 
view the general course of the drama as an indication 

1 Goethe, Faust, translated by Bayard Taylor, Houghton Mif- 
flin Company, Boston and New York, p. 156 et seg. The selections 
from works published by Houghton Mifflin Company are reprinted 


by permission of and special arrangement with Houghton Mifflin 
Company. 


GOETHE 57 


of the poet’s creed, we are not justified in discover- 
ing in it any close adherence to the Christian doctrine ; 
for if Faust survives death and is saved, this is not 
because of any religious belief which he may have en- 
tertained, but because he never ceased working and 
striving. 


The noble Spirit now is free, 
And saved from evil scheming: 
Whoe’er aspires unweariedly 

Is not beyond redeeming.* 


Goethe, too, illustrates what we meet with so often 
among our great thinkers: he was religious accord- 
ing to the spirit, but not the letter. He believed in 
the great underlying truths of religion, but rejected 
the narrow pretensions of dogma and creed. 


1 [bid., p. 308. 





THE RELIGION OF THIRTY GREAT 
THINKERS 


NINETEENTH CENTURY 





GARY IEE 


ARLYLE’S was a devoutly spiritual nature. 
Cc Religion was to him what air is to the organ- 

ism,—the thing we live by, the vital element 
of our being. 

But his religion was not of the definitely formulated 
type that was current in Christian domains. What he 
meant by this term is well expressed in the following 
words, already referred to on a previous page: 

“By religion I do not mean here the church-creed 
which he (a man) professes, the articles of faith which 
he will sign and, in words or otherwise, assert; not 
this wholly, in many cases not this at all. We see 
men of all kinds of professed creeds attain to almost 
all degrees of worth or worthlessness under each or 
any of them. This is not what I call religion, this 
profession and assertion; which is often only a pro- 
fession and assertion from the outworks of the man, 
from the mere argumentative region of him, if even 
so deep as that. But the thing a man does practically 
believe (and this is often enough without asserting it 
even to himself, much less to others) ; the thing a man 
does practically lay to heart, and know for certain, 
concerning his vital relations to this mysterious Uni- 
verse, and his duty and destiny there, that is in all 


cases the primary thing for him, and creatively de- 
61 


62 THIRTY GREATACDTT INCE RS 


termines all the rest. That is his religion; or, it may 
be, his mere scepticism and no-religion.” + 

In this sense, as we have said, Carlyle was deeply 
religious. He had no patience with the philosophy 
which regards the universe as a mere mechanism, 
without wonder and spiritual depth. In general, he 
was out of sympathy with the view of the world which 
had been promulgated by the French illumination, 
but inclined toward the deep philosophical visions of 
the German idealists. He was mystical by nature, 
rather than rationalistic. 

“System of Nature! To the wisest man, wide as is 
his vision, Nature remains of quite infinite depth, of 
quite infinite expansion; and all Experience thereof 
limits itself to some few computed centuries and meas- 
ured square-miles. The course of Nature’s phases, on 
this our little fraction of a Planet, is partially known 
to us: but who knows what deeper courses these de- 
pend on; what infinitely larger Cycle (of causes) our 
little Epicycle revolves on? To the Minnow every 
cranny and pebble, and quality and accident, of its 
little native Creek may have become familiar: but 
does the Minnow understand the Ocean Tides and 
periodic Currents, the Trade-winds, and Monsoons, 
and Moon’s Eclipses; by all which the condition of its 
little Creek is regulated, and may, from time to time, 
(un-miraculously enough), be quite overset and re- 
versed? Such a minnow is Man; his Creek this Planet 
Earth; his Ocean the immeasurable All; his Monsoons 


1 Carlyle, Heroes and Hero Worship, Donohue, Henneberry & 
Co., Chicago, p. 7. 


CARLYLE 63 


and periodic Currents the mysterious Course of Prov- 
idence through Aeons of Aeons.” ? 

As regards Christianity, while he does not adhere 
to the view that truth and salvation are bound up with 
a particular religion, yet he accords to this creed a 
place quite apart from other confessions, a place more 
noble and exalted. Christianity cannot be compared 
with the systems of Greek philosophy. It belongs 
in a class by itself, and transcends these as a beautiful 
poem transcends a correct mathematical demonstration. 
Those who class it with the Greek systems have not 
experienced the most elevated feeling of which the 
human heart is susceptible.” 

In the three chapters of Sartor Resartus entitled 
The Everlasting No, The Centre of Indifference, and 
The Everlasting Yea—which are doubtless based on 
personal experience—Carlyle depicts a development of 
the soul which is remarkably akin to religious conver- 
sion. The process is one which has been traced, 
though with certain variations, by many other writers, 
—by Tolstoi, for example, in his Confession, where it 
assumes a genuinely religious form, and by Schopen- 
hauer, in the chapters of his World as Will and Idea 
which treat of the denial of the will. This repeated 
depiction of the same process on the part of great 
writers indicates that it is a normal growth of human 
nature, not a mere freak or illusion. But the fact 
that it assumes many different forms, some of them 
- 1Carlyle, Sartor Resartus, A. C. McClurg and Company, Chi- 
cago, 1893, p. 255. 


2 See Carlyle’s Critical and Miscellaneous Essays, The American 
Bookmart, Chicago, p. 450. 


64. THIRTY GREATYLHIN ERS 


not even religious in character, would seem to prove 
that it is not a specifically religious process, connected 
with a special confession of faith, but, like the de- 
velopments of puberty, universal in character, and in- 
herent in the nature of the heart and mind. 


JOHN STUART MILL 


ONTRARY to what is true of many great 
writers, the religious views of John Stuart 
Mill are not subject to any doubt: he has ex- 
pressed them with characteristic clearness in three es- 
says: Nature, The Utility of Religion, and Theism. 
Most important for the subject in hand is the last; 
and in tracing Mr. Mill’s views, we need do little but 
select quotations from this remarkably lucid treatise. 

His general conclusion is that “the rational atti- 
tude of a thinking mind towards the supernatural, 
whether in natural or in revealed religion, is that of 
skepticism as distinguished from belief on the one 
hand, and from atheism on the other.” ? 

He recognizes four arguments for theism: the 
teleological, cosmological and ontological,—besides the 
argument which is based on the common approval of 
mankind. The last three are rejected as insufficient 
to compel assent; but “‘the adaptations in Nature afford 
a large balance of probability in favour of creation by 
intelligence.” ? 

It is worthy to note, however, that this essay was 
written but a few years after the publication of Dar- 
win’s Origin of Species,—when the conclusions of this 
thinker had not yet found widespread acceptance. In 

1Mill, Three Essays on Religion, Henry Holt and Company, 
New York, 1878, p. 242. 


2Tbid., p. 174. 
65 


66 THIRTY | GREAT AINKERS 


regard to its bearing on religion, Mill admits that 
though “the theory if admitted would be in no way 
whatever inconsistent with Creation ... it must be 
acknowledged that it would greatly attenuate the ev- 
Iden Centon sty ts 

Considering that Mr. Mill qualifies his indorsement 
of the argument from design with the words “in the 
present state of our knowledge,” it is reasonable to 
suppose that thorough acceptance of the evolutionary 
doctrine would have resulted in a considerable weak- 
ening, if not entire collapse, of his belief in a deity, 
as based on the argument in question. 

In regard to the attributes of the Being who is thus 
indicated by natural theology, Mill concludes that he 
is a “Being of great but limited power, how or by 
what limited we cannot even conjecture; of great, and 
perhaps unlimited intelligence, but perhaps, also, more 
narrowly limited than his power: who desires, and 
pays some regard to, the happiness of his creatures, 
but who seems to have other motives of action which 
he cares more for, and who can hardly be supposed to 
have created the universe for that purpose alone.” 2 
Evidently a conclusion widely at variance with the 
views of traditional religion, according to which om- 
nipotence and omniscience, especially, have almost in- 
variably been regarded as necessary attributes. 

When he comes to the question of immortality, Mr. 
Mill finds but little to comfort the soul with eager ex- 
pectations. 

“There is,’ he tell us, ‘no assurance whatever of 


1Jbid., p. 174. 
2 Ibid., p. 194. 


JOHN STUART MILL 67 


a life after death, on grounds of natural religion.” * 

Nor does he consider this a great misfortune. For 
in the concluding words of his essay on the Utility of 
Religion, he informs us that “it seems to me not only 
possible but probable, that in a higher, and, above all, 
a happier condition of human life, not annihilation but 
immortality may be the burdensome idea; and that 
human nature, though pleased with the present, and by 
no means impatient to quit it, would find comfort and 
not sadness in the thought that it is not chained through 
eternity to a conscious existence which it cannot be as- 
sured that it will always wish to preserve.’’ * 

As to the nature of the after-life, in case there is 
one, Mr. Mill is satisfied that it will be a natural de- 
velopment from the present existence, not involving a 
“sudden break in our spiritual life.’ 

“To imagine that a miracle will be wrought at death 
by the act of God making perfect every one whom it 
is his will to include among his elect, might be jus- 
tified by an express revelation duly authenticated, but 
is utterly opposed to every presumption that can be de- 
duced from the light of Nature.’ ° 

There remains a consideration of this question of 
revelation. Mill distinguishes between internal and 
external evidences for the same. The former is con- 
cerned with the subject-matter of the revelation, which 
is supposed to be so excellent that none but a super- 
natural origin can be postulated for it. It is dismissed 
by Mill as inadequate. The external evidence is nar- 


1Jbid., p. 210. 
2 JTbid., p. 122. 
3 Jbid., p. 211. 


68 THIRTY \GREATOTEINRERS 


rowed down to the testimony regarding supernatural 
facts, or miracles. After a lengthy review of the argu- 
ments pro and con, Mill comes to the conclusion “‘that 
miracles have no claim whatever to the character of 
historical facts and are wholly invalid as evidences of 
any revelation.” * 

It is clear, then, that Mr. Mill is not in any rigid 
sense a believer. He rejects revelation, he finds no 
reasons for immortality, and his only argument for 
God is based on the marks of design in nature, which 
we have reason to believe would have collapsed upon 
a thorough acceptance of the evolutionary doctrine. 
Evidently, therefore, a very slender thread upon which 
to hang a belief in higher things. Though he calls 
his position that of a skeptic, there is little to distin- 
guish it, if we abstract from the teleological argument, 
from what is ordinarily designated as atheism. To 
be sure, he expressly states that it is possible for Hope 
to go beyond these definite conclusions, and earnestly 
defends its exercise; but the question involuntarily 
arises: how is it possible for Hope to thrive when 
there is so little to serve as a foundation? 


1Jbid., p. 239. 


SPRENGER 


OT radically different in his teachings from 
N Mill, was the latter’s countryman, Herbert 

Spencer. Spencer lived at the time of Dar- 
win, and was the philosophical exponent of the theory 
of evolution. He embodied his views in an extended 
series of works known as the Synthetic Philosophy. 
So far as religious belief is concerned, Spencer is 
known as the mouthpiece of Agnosticism. He be- 
lieved that the ultimate nature of reality was unknow- 
able, and devoted his energies to the elucidation of 
those “knowable” phenomena which fall within the 
range of our faculties. 

A position like this excludes all dogmatizing con- 
cerning the things which usually fill the pages of the- 
ologians. In general, Spencer was antagonistic to the 
teachings of current Christianity, and his hostility was 
cordially returned on the part of the clergy. The fol- 
lowing passage, from our philosopher’s Autobiog- 
raphy, in which he speaks of the boyhood days when 
dissent had not as yet become clearly formulated, 
shows his mature attitude toward the doctrines of 
Christianity. 

“Criticism had not yet shown me how astonishing 
is the supposition that the Cause from which have 
arisen thirty millions of Suns with their attendant 


planets, took the form of a man, and made a bargain 
69 


70 THIRGDY GREAT THINKERS 


with Abraham to give him territory in return for 
allegiance. I had not at that time repudiated the no- 
tion of a deity who is pleased with the singing of 
his praises, and angry with the infinitesimal beings he 
has made when they fail to tell him perpetually of 
his greatness. It had not become manifest to me how 
absolutely and immeasurably unjust it would be that 
for Adam’s disobedience (which might have caused 
a harsh man to discharge his servant), all Adam’s 
guiltless descendants should be damned, with the ex- 
ception of a relatively few who accepted the “plan of 
salvation,” which the immense majority never heard 
of. Nor had I in those days perceived the astounding 
nature of the creed which offers for profoundest wor- 
ship, a being who calmly looks on while myriads of his 
creatures are suffering eternal torments.” * 

Men often change their radical opinions as they 
grow older, and adopt more conciliatory views. We 
had an example in Goethe, and the same was true of 
Spencer. Although remaining a dissenter to the end, 
in regard to the substance of the established religion, 
he nevertheless recognized a certain disciplinary value 
in religious beliefs. Likewise he appreciated that 
they fill a place in life which “‘can never become an un- 
filled sphere’; and answer questions—albeit faultily— 
concerning our deepest interests, which persist in call- 
ing for a solution. ‘Thus religious creeds,” he con- 
cludes, “which in one way or other occupy the sphere 
that rational interpretation seeks to occupy and fails, 
and fails the more the more it seeks, I have come to 


1 Spencer, An Autobiography, D. Appleton and Company, New 
York, 1904, Vol. I, p. 171. 


SPENCER ay 


regard with a sympathy based on community of need: 
feeling that dissent from them results from inability to 
accept the solutions offered, joined with the wish that 
solutions could be found.” * 

This passage is interesting from two points of view. 
In the first place, it shows how age has a conciliatory 
effect on our attitude toward the world, as mentioned. 
And it proves how deep and ingrained in human 
nature is the religious need. Spencer, of all men, 
was one of the least prone to give way to promptings 
of feeling. There was nothing sentimental about him. 
He was a skeptic by nature, and his mind was of the 
brilliantly intellectual and coldly objective type. All 
his life had been spent in the defense of theories which 
were opposed to the religious convictions of the time, 
and frequent clashes with the spokesmen of religion 
must have fortified him in his opposition. Yet here 
he is, on the threshold of the grave, speaking with 
sympathy of the views he has throughout a lifetime 
opposed, and all but joining hands with his adversa- 
ries. It proves that religion is a need of the human 
heart, which no amount of theoretical insight will ever 
succeed in banishing. 


1Jbid., Vol. II, p. 549. 


MATTHEW ARNOLD 


HE problem of Matthew Arnold was compar- 
atively narrow. But within his self-imposed 
limits, the deductions which he drew were 

singularly clear and forcible. 

The problem was, to separate the true from the false 
in the Christian religion, and thus to save the former 
from contamination by the latter. 

To use his own words, “two things about the Chris- 
tian religion must surely be clear to anybody with 
eyes in his head. One is, that men cannot do with- 
out it; the other, that they cannot do with it as it is.” 1 

Arnold’s position was that of the higher critic of 
the Bible. He realized that the popular conception 
of Holy Writ, based on a literal interpretation of its 
contents, was radically wrong; that miracles, prophecies 
and the like could no longer be accepted; yes, that the 
doctrines of the trinity and the divinity of Jesus, like- 
wise, were mythological in nature, and would sooner or 
later have to go; and in order to rescue what was good, 
he threw the less good overboard, and thus forestalled 
the complete repudiation of religion on the part of 
those who could not stomach its indigestible elements. 

A few quotations will make his position clearer. 

1 Matthew Arnold, God and the Bible, The Macmillan Company, 
New York, 1913, p. XI. The selections from Matthew Arnold 
in this chapter are reprinted by permission of The Macmillan 


Company. 
72 


MATTHEW ARNOLD 8 


We shall begin with those which exhibit his heterodox 
opinions. 

“The Bible is not a talisman, to be taken and used 
literally.’ . . . Our three creeds, and with them the 
whole of our so-called orthodox theology, are founded 
upon words which Jesus in all probability never ut- 
tered.” . . . So deeply unsound is the mass of tradi- 
tions and imaginations of which popular religion con- 
sists, SO gross a distortion and caricature of the true 
religion does it present, that future times will hardly 
comprehend its audacity in calling those who abjure it 
atheists.* . . . The mental habit of him who imagines 
that Balaam’s ass spoke, in no respect differs from 
the mental habit of him who imagines that a Madonna 
of wood or stone winked.* . . . Even with Lourdes 
and La Salette before our eyes, we may yet say that 
miracles are doomed; they will drop out, like fairies 
or witchcraft, from among the matters which serious 
people believe.” 5 

In regard to the value of real Christianity and re- 
ligion, however, Arnold has not a moment’s doubt. 

“For us, religion is the solidest of realities, and 
Christianity the greatest and happiest stroke ever yet 
made for human perfection.® . . . To the Bible men 
will return; and why? Because they cannot do with- 
out it. Because happiness is our being’s end and aim, 

1 Matthew Arnold, Literature and Dogma, The Macmillan Com- 
pany, New York, 1899, p. X XVII. 

2Tbid., p.' 255. 

3 God and the Bible, p. 2. 

*Matthew Arnold, Culture and Anarchy, The Macmillan Com- 
pany, New York, 1895, p. 123. 


5 Literature and Dogma, p. 220. 
8 Ibid., p. 98. 


74. THIRTY GREAT; THINKERS 


and happiness belongs to righteousness, and right- 
eousness is revealed in the Bible.” ? 

The essence of the Bible he finds in the Old Testa- 
ment doctrine that righteousness is salvation, and in 
the method and secret of Jesus,—the method referring 
to the idea that conscience is the criterion of conduct, 
and the secret to the blessedness of self-renouncement. 
In these he finds the gist of religion. As for God, 
he substitutes the conception of “the Eternal Power, 
not ourselves, that makes for righteousness.’ Any- 
thing beyond this, he maintains, is not susceptible of 
verification. 

To retain these precious elements, we must strip 
them of all accessories which are repugnant to reason. 

“There will be an interval, between the time when 
men take the religion of the Bible to be a thaumaturgy 
and the time when they perceive it to be something dif- 
ferent, in which they will be prone to throw aside the 
religion of the Bible altogether as a delusion. And 
this, again, will be mainly the fault,—if fault that can 
be called which was an inevitable error,—of the re- 
ligious people themselves, who, from the time of the 
Apostles downwards, have insisted upon it that reli- 
gion shall be a thaumaturgy or nothing.? . . . (Many 
persons) have made up their minds that what is pop- 
ularly called miracle never really happens nor can hap- 
pen, and that the belief in it arises out of either ig- 
norance or mistake. To these persons we restore the 
use of the Bible, if, while showing them that the 
Bible-language is not scientific, but the language of 


1Jbid., p. 308. 
2 Ibid., p. 307. 


MATTHEW ARNOLD 75 


common speech or of poetry and eloquence . . . we 
convince them at the same time that this language deals 
with facts of positive experience, most momentous and 
realy: 4 

Thus Matthew Arnold rejects the claims, on the one 
hand, of those who uphold orthodox Christianity, with 
its fantastic and irrational elements; but he is equally 
zealous in refuting those who would do away with 
all religion whatsoever. He defends Christianity as 
a peculiarly happy combination of the valuable ele- 
ments of religion, placing it above Mohammedanism, 
Brahmanism, and Buddhism in this respect. He likens 
it to Greek art, which must be studied by every one who 
would obtain artistic mastery; similarly all who would 
reach the highest levels of conduct must turn to the 
communications of the Bible. His position is much 
like that of Tolstoi; and in general he represents the 
line of thought which has been gaining wide promi- 
nence of late, and which is being followed more and 
more within the confines of the church itself. 


2Tbid; \p. 114 


BROWNING 


(_) rion were Browning’s general stand on 


religion there is little doubt, concerning his 
detailed beliefs a great deal. 

To begin with, Browning was a fervent believer 
in God and immortality. His works are permeated 
with these ideas, and numerous beautiful passages give 
evidence of them; of which the following, from Abt 
Vogler, is often quoted: 


“There shall never be one lost good! What was, shall. 
live as before; 

The evil is null, is nought, is silence wmplying sound ; 

What was good, shall be good, with, for evil, so much 
good more; 

On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven, a perfect 
round.” * 


His position on these cardinal points thus being 
clear, it behoves us to inquire what was his stand 
concerning the particular dogmas of the church. Here 
the answer is not so sure. One biographer endeavors 
to prove that Browning was a follower of the 
Nazarene; another refers to ‘“‘those who, like himself, 


1 Browning, Complete Poetic and Dramatic Works, Houghton 
Mifflin Company, Boston and New York, p. 383. 
76 


BROWNING ! 77 


rejected or questioned the dogmatic teachings of 
Christianity.”’ 4 

We do not know the particular facts on which this 
declaration is based. Perhaps one was a statement of 
Robert Buchanan, in the Letter Dedicatory of his 
Outcast, where he tells of a conversation in which 
Browning emphatically denied his Christianity. On 
the other hand we have the testimony of Alfred 
Domett, Browning’s intimate friend, which seems to 
affirm exactly the opposite. Domett had evinced sur- 
prise, on a particular occasion, that Browning should 
have attacked an opinion of Byron’s, whereupon 
Browning answered that he did so “as a Christian.” 2 
Domett adds, however, that this was the only occasion 
on which he had ever heard the poet clearly proclaim 
his Christianity. 

To our mind this statement of Domett’s, which is 
introduced as a substantiation of the poet’s belief, can 
hardly be regarded in this light. The thing that im- 
presses us is not, that the avowal was made, but that 
it was the only avowal of the kind ever made to so in- 
timate a friend. A firm believer, one would think, 
would have given evidence of his belief on more than 
one occasion. 

In general, the arguments of the biographers in 
question do not sound convincing. We are told that 
Browning was raised in the Christian faith; that he 
never showed himself hostile to the same; that he con- 
_ 1Mrs. Sutherland Orr, Life and Letters of Robert Browmng, 
gare Mifflin and Company, Boston and New York, 1891, Vol. 


2 Griffin and Minchin, The Life of Robert Browning, The Mac- 
millan Company, New York, 1912, p. 249. 


78 THIRTY (GREAT THINKERS 


stantly used Biblical subjects in his poems; that he re- 
ferred to Christ, on a certain occasion, as a ‘“‘Divine 
Being’; and that he often went to church when away 
from London, though not a regular attendant at home. 

The fact that Browning was raised as a Christian 
counts for nothing, the same being true of many pro- 
nounced freethinkers as well. And the fact that he 
manifested no hostility toward the church has merely 
negative significance. Hardly more convincing is the 
circumstance that he frequently made use of Biblical 
subjects. As plausible would it be to assume that 
Schiller believed in pagan mythology, because he drew 
so liberally from classic sources. As for the allusion 
to Christ, it is well to remember that Browning like- 
wise referred to his mother, on a particular occasion, 
as a “divine woman.” ? Are we to infer from this 
that he really believed in the divinity of his mother? 
Finally it seems much more significant that he did 
not attend church in London than that he should’ oc- 
casionally have done so on his travels. 

While we are uncertain, then, as to the degree of 
correspondence between Browning’s religion and the 
Christian faith, we are reasonably sure that there were 
some articles of that faith, as commonly received, 
which he did not share. He accepted the doctrine 
of evolution at a time when this was still rare among 
orthodox believers, which would seem to involve a 
rejection of the literal account of creation. And there 
is no doubt that he did not subscribe to the belief in 
eternal damnation. This is in harmony with the 


1Jbid., p. 206. 
2Ibid., p. 49. 


BROWNING 79 


general tenor of his poetry, and is definitely proved 
by the following stanza from the poem entitled Ap- 
parent Failure: 


My own hope is, a sun will pierce 

The thickest cloud earth ever stretched; 
That, after Last, returns the First, 
Though a wide compass round be fetched; 
That what began best, can’t end worst, 
Nor what God blessed once, prove accurst.* 


Taken in conjunction with his lack of church at- 
tendance in London, all this seems to prove that Brown- 
ing was not orthodox in the strictest accepted sense. 
On the other hand, he seems certainly to have been a 
Christian in the broader, more general sense. And 
this may account for the apparent discrepancy of the 
evidence. “Christian”? means various things; and one 
may be a follower of Christ in one acceptation of the 
word, but not in another. The statement of Domett’s 
indicates that Browning was not very communicative 
as to these aspects of his soul-life. And so it may 
well be that we shall never know his exact theological 
position. He undoubtedly believed in God and im- 
mortality; he was in thorough sympathy with the 
Christian religion; and he could probably be called 
an adherent of that religion in the broader sense 
of the word. But it is doubtful. whether he was 
so in any narrower sense, and he certainly re- 


jected some doctrines which are usually proclaimed 


1 Browning, Complete Poetic and Dramatic Works, Houghton 
Mifflin Company, Boston and New York, p. 413. 


80 TEEDRARY 3 GR AGIA LT Es Ne 


by orthodox believers. Probably, then, we shall not 
deviate widely from the truth if we sum up the ev- 
idence with the statement that Browning was a liberal, 
undogmatic Christian. 


COMTE 


OMTE has been classed as an atheist. Better 

might it be to substitute the term agnostic. 

For the cornerstone of his philosophy is the 
idea that we know nothing concerning the final con- 
sitution of the universe, but are confined to those se- 
quences of cause and effect which have appropriately 
been designated as “phenomena,” in contradistinction 
to “noumena.” His standpoint is accordingly allied 
to that of Hume, Mill, and Spencer. 

The starting point of his system is to be found in 
the law that human knowledge passes through three 
different stages, known as the theological or fictitious, 
the metaphysical or abstract, and the scientific or 
positive. 

In the first or theological state, things are explained 
through a direct reference to superhuman beings. 
They are caused by a God or gods, and further ex- 
planation is deemed unnecessary. 

The second or metaphysical state is not much dif- 
ferent from the first. Instead of gods, we now have 
mythical entities which are supposed to be the cause 
of things. Thus life would in this stage be accounted 
mirOt-asatne result.of a. vital*torce. 

“In the final, the positive state, the mind has given 
over the vain search after Absolute notions, the origin 


and destination of the universe, and the causes of 
81 


82 VHIRGY GRE AIT ELEN Ri 


phenomena, and applies itself to the study of their 
laws—that is, their invariable relations of succession 
and resemblance.”’ } 

The principle thus educed is followed through the 
various sciences, of which Comte has given us a new 
classification. Mathematics, astronomy, and physics 
are the first to have arrived at the positive stage, 
chemistry and biology have attained their maturity 
but recently, while sociology is still struggling toward 
its desideratum. 

It is not in our province to follow the development 
of these views, as we are only interested in the opinions 
which can more particularly be designated as religious. 
But here, too, Comte has struck an entirely new note. 
To take the place of traditional worship, which is 
doomed to extinction, our author has substituted the 
worship of humanity. The religion, therefore, which 
he proposes, is known as the Religion of Humanity. 
There is no God in this religion. Instead we have 
Man himself, as the supreme object of worship. The 
forms and ceremonies of the cult are borrowed in 
great measure from the current creeds. There are 
priests and temples; likewise there are sacraments, cor- 
responding to the important turning points and periods 
of life. Public festivals are provided for. Great 
men are to be revered, and there is to be a family 
worship of deceased parents by their children, and 
reciprocally of husbands and wives, brothers and sis- 
ters. But there is no immortality, beyond the traces 
which our lives may leave in the memory of posterity. 


1 Comte, The Positive Philosophy, William Gowans, New York, 
1868, p. 26. 


COMTE 83 


The philosophy thus briefly sketched was closely re- 
lated to the thoughts and tendencies of the age,—as 
indeed is the case with all vital systems of thought. 
It mirrored the growing interest in exact science, as 
opposed to the deductive reasonings of former ages. 
And it reflected the increasing solicitude for human 
welfare, as it found expression likewise in freer 
forms of government and systematic plans for the 
amelioration of social conditions. Only its specific 
forms and ceremonies have turned out to be an anach- 
ronism. Borrowed from the older creeds, and out of 
harmony with the spirit of the age, they have merely 
proved to be an amiable dream, and have never found 
adoption on a wider scale. 


RENAN 


ENAN was one of the most interesting literary 
R figures of the nineteenth century. His style, 

personality, and the story of his reversal of 
faith,—all combined to make him such. Destined for 
the priesthood and on the threshold of taking holy 
orders, he was beset with doubts as to the truths of 
Christianity, until finally his faith was undermined and 
he renounced his intended vocation. The account of 
his inner revolution is given in the delightful “Recol- 
lections of My Youth,” from which we subjoin a 
passage. 

“In a divine book everything must be true, and as 
two contradictions cannot both be true, it must not 
contain any contradiction. But the careful study of 
the Bible which I had undertaken, while revealing to 
me many historical and esthetic treasures, proved to 
me also that it was not more exempt than any other 
ancient book from contradictions, inadvertencies, and 
errors. It contains fables, legends, and other traces of 
purely human composition. It is no longer possible 
for any one to assert that the second part of the book 
of Isaiah was written by Isaiah. The book of Daniel, 
which, according to all orthodox tenets, relates to the 
period of the captivity, is an apocryphal work com- 
posed in the year 169 or 170 B.c. The book of Judith 


is an historical impossibility. The attribution of the 
84 


RENAN 85 


Pentateuch to Moses does not bear investigation, and 
to deny that several parts of Genesis are mystical in 
their meaning is equivalent to admitting as actual 
realities descriptions such as that of the Garden of 
Eden, the apple, and Noah’s Ark.”’ * 

It is interesting to compare the grounds which lead 
various thinkers to reject the authority of the Bible. 
Although many reasons are held in common, yet cer- 
tain thinkers will preferentially pick out special aspects 
of the problem, and dwell on these. Thus Rousseau, 
as we have seen, bases his objection to revealed re- 
ligions on the difficulty of pronouncing on the au- 
thenticity and accuracy of the documents underlying 
them, and the resulting injustice of holding us ac- 
countable for our verdicts. Voltaire dwells on the 
general absurdity and immorality of the contents of 
Holy Writ. Matthew Arnold’s difficulty arises from 
the faulty interpretation of Christianity which has 
been held from time immemorial. While Nietzsche, 
as we shall see, objects especially to the ethical system 
taught by Christianity. Renan’s point of emphasis 
seems to be the fact that a Divine book must contain 
no errors, while the Scriptures are full of them. It 
is singular that so little should have been made of this 
difficulty by the writers previously considered, for it 
is assuredly a point of vital importance. Our author 
recurs to it again and again. “The mildest Catholic 
doctrine as to inspiration will not allow one to admit 
that there is any marked error in the sacred text. . . . 
To abandon a single dogma or reject a single tenet in 


1 Renan, Recollections of My Youth, New York, 1883, p. 246. 
Quoted with the permission of G. P. Putnam’s Sons. 


86 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


the teaching of the Church, is equivalent to the ne- 
gation of the Church and of Revelation.” + He seems 
to make it the cornerstone of his apostasy. 

In regard to his position after he had broken with 
the faith of the fathers, it was decidedly skeptical, 
and one might not have gone far astray if one had 
called him, in ordinary parlance, an atheist. Never- 
theless, he believed in the possibility of a further order 
of things in which the hand of God was evident, and 
expressed the hope of a continuance of life beyond 
the grave. ‘The two fundamental dogmas of religion, 
God and immortality, remain rationally undemonstra- 
ble; but one cannot say that they are smitten with 
absolute impossibility.”’? Immortality, he thought, 
was not as likely as the existence of God, but might 
nevertheless turn out to be a fact. 

In this rather lukewarm defense of the realities of 
religion, Renan reminds us of John Stuart Mill. With 
Mill, too, there is little in the way of positive proof, 
and certitude in regard to divine matters gives way to 
mere hope. 

Having completed our study of Renan, we again 
pass from French to German domains, and take up 
the series of philosophers which was broken off with 
Fichte. 

1Jbid., pp. 247 and 252. 


2 Renan, Recollections and Letters, New York, Cassell Publish- 
ing Company, p. 307. 


‘ 


SCHELLING 


German philosophers who succeeded Kant, and 
who developed the ideas promulgated by this 
thinker into the systems known as Idealism. 

There is considerable difference between the reli- 
gious views of Schelling’s youth and those of his later 
days. As a young man our philosopher’s attitude 
toward the accepted creeds was antagonistic. It is 
characterized by the following lines from a semi- 
humorous poem entitled: ‘“Epikurisch Glaubens- 
bekenntniss Heinz Widerporstens” (Epicurean Con- 
fession of Faith of Heinz Widerporsten). 


G cera is the second of the great trio of 


“Therefore religion I forsake, 
All superstitious ties I break, 
No church will I visit to hear them preach, 
I have done with all that the parsons teach.” * 


Philosophically his views may be designated as Ide- 
alistic Pantheism, the influence of Spinoza being 
clearly evident. As he says further on in the same 
poem : 

1Quoted from Royce, The Spirit of Modern Philosophy, 
Houghton, Mifflin and Company, Boston and New York, 1892, p. 


187. 
; 87 


88 THIRTY GREAT.THINKERS 


“Therefore is that religion true, 
E’en though to light it pushes through 
Midst stones and moss that clings, 
Midst flowers, metals and all things; 
Which writes its secret hieroglyphs 
In caves and on the highest cliffs.’’ 


His attitude toward Christian doctrines, as expressed 
in the Lectures on the Method of Academical Study, 
is summarized by Schwegler as follows: 

“The incarnation of God is an incarnation from 
eternity. The eternal Son of God, born from the 
essence of the father of all things, is the finite itself, 
as it is in the eternal intuition of God. Christ is only 
the historical and phenomenal pinnacle of the incarna- 
tion; as an individual, he is a person wholly intelligible 
from the circumstances of the age in which he ap- 
peared. Since God is eternally outside of all time, it 
is inconceivable that he should have assumed a human 
nature at any definite moment of time. The temporal 
form of Christianity, the exoteric Christianity does 
not correspond to its idea, and its perfection is yet 
to come. A chief hindrance to the perfection of 
Christianity was, and is, the so-called Bible, which, 
moreover, is far inferior to other religious writings, 
in a genuine religious content. The future must bring 
a new birth of esoteric Christianity, or a new and 
higher form of religion, in which philosophy, religion, 
and poesy shall melt together in unity.’’ ? 


1Schwegler, 4 History of Philosophy, D. Appleton and Com- 
pany, New York, 1894, p. 376. 


SCHELLING 89 


In later years, as mentioned, Schelling’s views under- 
went a change. His pantheism gave way to the be- 
lief in a personal God, between whom and the world 
there is a certain opposition. The latter has fallen 
away from its source, and history represents the rec- 
onciliation. Christianity is the central point of history, 
Christ is the Son of God, and his sacrifice an act of 
mediation. This position, however, must not be 
considered as perfectly identical with orthodoxy. 
Frantz, the careful exponent of Schelling’s later 
philosophy, although emphasizing the agreement be- 
tween Schelling’s views and Christianity, repeatedly 
speaks of the divergence between the teachings of the 
master and the orthodox position. The fall of man, 
for example, is not to be conceived as a historical hap- 
pening, but as an act which is “above history”; an 
act, furthermore, which does not consist in eating an 
apple, but in the fact of man’s becoming an individual 
for himself. His very existence, in fact, is the sin 
for which Christ must atone.t. A view of the matter, 
evidently, which is far removed from the version we 
are accustomed to hearing from orthodox lips. But 
with all this divergence, Schelling’s theories must be 
admitted to be a close approach to the usual doctrines. 

Ordinarily a man’s later views are considered riper 
and more reliable than his earlier, and are accepted as 
his confession of faith. But the case of Schelling is 
unique. A youth of great precocity, he began produc- 
ing works of world-stirring power before he had 


1See Frantz, Schelling’s positive Philosophie usw., Cothen, 
1879-1886, 


gO THTR EY GRA SDE is 


reached the age of twenty-five. One brilliant treatise 
followed the other in rapid succession, and in a short 
span of time he had won a place by the side of the 
greatest thinkers of history. Then suddenly, at the 
age of thirty-four, he ceases writing, and although he 
lives to the ripe age of seventy-nine, hardly a word 
appears from his pen to the day of his death. The 
works containing the “Philosophy of Mythology and 
Revelation,’ which contain his later views, were pub- 
lished posthumously. His fame as a philosopher, his 
influence on contemporary thought,—in short, all that 
compels us to include him in the list of great thinkers, 
is based entirely on those early works. His name 
would endure without the least diminution of lustre 
even though his latest writings were lost and for- 
gotten. The reverse, however, could not be as- 
serted. The Philosophy of Mythology and Revela- 
tion by itself, without the brilliant effusions of his 
youth, would hardly suffice to earn him a place even 
among the thinkers of second rank. So it would seem 
as if especial stress ought to be laid on the early views, 
in determining Schelling’s religious stand. At least, 
it is hardly feasible to accept the later opinions as a 
sole and sufficient account of his attitude. For 
whereas these later speculations may be regarded as 
the embodiment of his mature thought, they fail to 
give expression to his vigorous and vital periods of 
activity. But whereas the earlier views were produced 
while Schelling was still at the zenith of his power, 
they were superseded by later pronouncements from 
the same pen. The situation is peculiar, and we hes- 
itate to make a decision. Perhaps the best plan, there- 





SCHELLING Q1 


fore, will be to leave the matter just as it is, stating 
the views of both periods, and giving equal prominence 
to each; or allowing the reader himself to choose that 
one of the two which he thinks more representative 
of the man in his totality. 


HEGEL 


FTER Schelling comes Hegel. His religious 
A views are intimately connected with his philos- 
ophy,—so intimately, in fact, that some state- 
ment of the philosophy must be made in presenting 
his views. According to Hegel, the universe is to be 
conceived as a process. This comes to view every- 
where,—in mind and nature, in history, art, and reli- 
gion. Three steps constitute the process, which are 
repeated again and again. A thing or idea is first 
posited, then it is negated or contradicted in its 
opposite, and finally both are taken up and reconciled 
in a third, which includes them. The process is first 
worked out in the realm of pure being (without ob- 
jective or subjective reality, as we should say), or 
Logic. By a rigid application of the method, the so- 
called categories which rule our thinking and existence 
are deduced. Being, non-being, becoming, quality, 
quantity, measure, subjectivity, objectivity, absolute- 
ness,—to mention but these,—are generated from each 
other with inexorable regularity. But the categories 
are no empty moulds, in which we ensnare the objec- 
tive world; on the contrary, they are the very stuff of 
which the world and life are composed, and the formula 
by which they are produced is also active in the realms 
of “reality.” 
The rhythm of progression is evident again when 
Q2 


HEGEL 93 


we come to the objective world. First we have pure 
Being, as it exists in the realm of the categories; this 
negates itself by passing over into nature; but in the 
life of spirit it returns again, and Being is realized in 
a higher synthesis. We have subjective, objective, and 
absolute spirit. The former deals with the individual, 
the second has the state and history for its subject- 
matter, and the third represents the return of spirit 
to itself in art, religion, and philosophy, where it re- 
gains perfect freedom. Art is “the anticipated triumph 
of mind over matter . . . the idea penetrating matter 
and transforming it after its image.’! In religion 
man pictures the Infinite under the form of “representa- 
tion.” Three stages are recognized. In the religions 
of the Orient, the infinite aspect of the Deity is em- 
phasized, and man is nothing. In the mythology of 
the Greeks, the finite comes into its rights, even the 
Gods being little more than human. The opposition 
between the two is resolved in Christianity, which is 
the absolute religion. Here the human and the in- 
finite are reconciled in Christ, the God-man. But reli- 
gion is not the highest manifestation of the absolute 
spirit. This place of honor is reserved for philos- 
ophy, which gives us a true picture of the whole 
process in concepts, and thus forms its consummation. 

It is difficult to do justice, in a few words, to a 
system so novel and complicated as this, and no doubt 
but few of our readers who have not previously been 
familiar with the system will do more than gather the 
faintest idea of it. But it will be apparent, we imagine, 
that so far as religion is concerned, the system does 


1 Weber, History of Philosophy, Charles Scribner’s Sons, p. 524. 


94 THIRTY .GREARSURINKERS 


not coincide closely with the ideas that are usually 
held concerning that subject,—especially with those 
that are embodied in Christianity. There is a Being 
who may be designated as God, to be sure, but this 
Being is merely the process itself, in its totality, and 
we are parts of it. Furthermore, Christianity, while 
it is designated as the highest or absolute religion, is 
not the only true confession of faith, but is one of 
many creeds which also contain aspects of the truth. 
Finally, religion as a whole is not the highest state- 
ment of reality, but is transcended by philosophy, which 
gives us the truth in its most perfect, undisguised form. 
To be sure, Hegel himself professed to see a close 
agreement between his philosophy and Christianity, but 
his verdict has not been generally accepted by pos- 
terity. Indeed, shortly after his death, already, a con- 
siderable party arose within the ranks of his followers, 
known as the Hegelian “left,” which, in opposition to 
the “right,” emphasized the radical difference between 
the world-view of the master and that of the orthodox 
believers. Feuerbach was one of these, and he car- 
ried his views as far as atheism and materialism. 
But whatever the exact position of the master, the 
truth which he finds in Christianity certainly is not of 
the literal character, but partakes more or less of the 
symbolical. This is evident in his view of the fall 
of man. There was no single individual called Adam, 
who fell once and for all, and the results of whose fall 
we inherit. On the contrary, Adam is to be conceived 
as Man in general, before the development of the con- 
sciousness which enables him to distinguish good and 
evil. And while this development may be considered 


HEGEL 95 


as a misfortune from one point of view, it is neces- 
sary tor the unfolding of his higher nature, or redemp- _ 
tion. ‘Somewhat similar, we remember, was the view 
of the fall propounded by Schelling. And in Schopen- 
hauer, again, we shall meet with an analogous con- 
ception, coupled with a symbolical view of the atone- 
ment which is effected by Christ. These philosophers 
represent one of those peculiar waves or currents of 
thought which we meet with so often in the history 
of philosophy, and of which we had an example in the 
atheistic tendencies of the French encyclopedists. 

Having dealt with Hegel and Schelling, it now re- 
mains to consider the religious opinions of the third 
of this notable group of men, the illustrious Schopen- 
hauer. 


SCHOPENHAUER 


contains a certain allegorical truth, which it 

shares with Buddhism and Brahmanism. The 
practical essence of his philosophy, likewise, the denial 
of the will, is akin to the Christian renunciation of 
the world. But interpreted narrowly and literally, 
Christianity is a gross error. 

“Everything that is true in Christianity is also to 
be found in Brahmanism and Buddhism... A 
religion the foundation of which is a single event, and 
which even tries to make this the turning-point of the 
world and all existence, has such a weak basis that it 
can impossibly endure as soon as people begin to 
think.? . . . He is merely a big child who seriously 
believes that beings who were not human ever gave 
our race information concerning its existence and pur- 
pose, or concerning that of the world. There is no 
other revelation than that contained in the thoughts 
of wise men.” ® 

According to Schopenhauer’s philosophy, the root of 
all existence is the world-will, of which our own will 
is a part. But since this is unconscious, except where 
it crops forth in animal and human life, it can hardly 


G consi a cer admits that Christianity 


1 Schopenhauer, Parerga und Paralipomena, Philipp Reclam 
jun., Leipzig, Vol. II, p. 400. 
2 [bid., p. 413. 
3 [bid., p. 379. 
96 


SCHOPENHAUER 97 


be characterized by the appellation of God. True, 
this will is eternal: it existed before we were born, 
and will continue to exist after our death. But there 
is nothing to indicate that our life will be consciously 
connected with a future existence, in the sense in which 
tomorrow is a continuation of today. Hence we can- 
not speak of immortality, in the ordinary acceptation 
of the term. So far, then, we have a doctrine that is 
perfectly atheistic in content. 

But in its further developments and practical con- 
clusions, the doctrine has many points of agreement 
with Christianity. To begin with, there is its depreca- 
tion of the world, with its vain desires and illusory 
satisfactions. Schopenhauer is the apostle of pes- 
simism, and Christianity too is pessimistic so far as 
the present life is concerned. Adam, according to our 
philosopher, is a typification of the natural man who is 
in every one of us, and his fall corresponds to our 
birth and affirmation of life. (A conception, we re- 
member, similar to Schelling’s.) Christ, on the other 
hand, represents the atonement which occurs when we 
deny the will and immolate our self. The process by 
which this takes place is beautifully depicted in the fol- 
lowing words: 

“Then we see the man who has passed through all 
the increasing degrees of affliction with the most ve- 
hement resistance, and is finally brought to the verge of 
despair, suddenly retire into himself, know himself and 
the world, change his whole nature, rise above himself 
and all suffering, as if purified and sanctified by it, 
in inviolable peace, blessedness, and sublimity, will- 
ingly renounce everything he previously desired with 


98 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


all his might, and joyfully embrace death. It is the 
refined silver of the denial of the will to live that sud- 
denly comes forth from the purifying flame of suffer- 
ing. It is salvation.” 4 

As is apparent, a veritable process of conver- 
sion. And the significance of Schopenhauer’s position 
is especially great, since it goes with an avowal of 
atheism. In Tolstoi’s Confession, we shall see, there 
is a depiction of conversion which is thoroughly re- 
ligious in content. Carlyle, in his Sartor Resartus, 
has traced an analogous process which, while not re- 
ligious in any narrow and specific sense, is still so in 
its general background. But with Schopenhauer there 
is no religious accompaniment at all. The case is 
highly instructive, and lends plausibility to the view 
advanced on a previous page, that we are dealing with 
a natural development of the human soul, which is in- 
dependent of the particular beliefs that are held, but 
inherent in the nature of the heart and mind. 


1 Schopenhauer, The World as Will and Idea, Kegan Paul, 
Trench, Triibner, & Co., Ltd., London, 1891, Vol. I, *p, 2507, 


NIETZSCHE 


IETZSCHE began as an admirer of Schopen- 
N hauer, but the ultimate development of his 
philosophy brought him to conclusions which 
were as divergent as possible from those of the great 
pessimist. If Schopenhauer found the highest good 
in the denial of the will, Nietzsche enthusiastically 
preached its affirmation. He gloried in life,—with 
all its desires and yearnings, satisfactions and sorrows. 
He was an optimist as decidedly as the other was a 
pessimist. 
Accordingly, his religious views, while agreeing to 
a certain extent with those of Schopenhauer, also re- 
vealed characteristic differences. Like Schopenhauer, 
he saw no truth in religion when interpreted narrowly 
and literally ; but unlike him, he also denied its symbolic 
value, and deprecated its system of ethics. 
In short, he was an out and out irreligionist, an ir- 
-reconcilable atheist. Christianity, God, immortality,— 
yes, religion itself were unhesitatingly cast overboard 


by him. 
“What thinker,’ he says, “still needs the hypothesis 
of a God? .. . No religion, direct or indirect, either 


as dogma or as allegory, has ever contained a truth.” ? 


1 Nietzsche, Human, All-Too-Human, T. N. Foulis, Edinburgh 
and London, 1910, Nos. 28 and IiIo. 
99 


100 SOEURRSTY (GR ECA CSSIN EL RINIRGE) Recs 


The doctrine of immortality is characterized by him 
as “the great lie.’ + 

But it is Christianity which is selected as the object 
of his most ferocious attacks, the target of his most 
venomous arrows. “It is indecent nowadays to be a 
Whristian oan 

Contrary to most dissenters, his antagonism is not 
based merely on disagreement as to the facts and the- 
ories propounded by Christianity, but extends even to 
its system of ethics. Whereas most writers extol the 
Christian virtues and ideals, Nietzsche finds them op- 
posed to the highest good of mankind. He loves the 
strong, heroic qualities in man, not those—like pity 
and humility—which tend to make him weak. The 
consciousness of sin, especially, is a deplorable con- 
tribution to human suffering. And Christianity must 
be thrown off, if humanity is to develop along strong 
and healthy lines. 

“Christianity has sided with everything weak, low 
and botched* .... it takes the side of everything 
idiotic, it utters a curse upon “intellect” 4 . . . its ends 
are only bad ends: the poisoning, the calumniation and 
the denial of life, the contempt of the body, the deg- 
radation and self-pollution of man by virtue of the 
concept sin.” ® 

In fine, he calls Christianity “the one great curse, 
the one enormous and innermost perversion, the one 
great instinct of revenge, for which no means are too 

1 Nietzsche, The Antichrist, T. N. Foulis, 1915, p. 185. 

2 Ibid., No. 38. 

3 [bid., No. 5 


4 Ibid., No. 52. 
BT hid NON eo: 


NIB DZS IOI 


venomous, too underhand, too underground and too 
petty . . . the one immortal blemish of mankind.” ? 

The very name of the work in which he attacks 
Christianity with especial vigor—The Antichrist—is 
characteristic of his attitude. In short, never yet did 
a great writer oppose the Christian religion with such 
hatred and venom. He was its most uncompromising 
foe, its bitterest detractor. As such he occupies, in 
our list of thinkers, the pole opposite to that of Pas- 
cal. As Pascal was an out and out Christian, emo- 
tionally and intellectually, so Nietzsche stands as the 
embodiment of naked, natural humanity, without met- 
aphysical background, without God, immortality, and 
religion. 


1Jbid., No. 62. 


EMERSON 


MERSON’S views on religion are peculiarly 
difficult to state. Though most of his writ- 


ings deal with this and allied subjects, he gives 
no distinct formulation of his creed. Religion perme- 
ates his every utterance, but is nowhere clearly ex- 
pressed. 

There is hardly a man to whom the term “God- 
intoxicated’ is more appropriate, but none who is 
more elusive when you try to pin him down to definite 
statements. 

Essentially, though, we may characterize his attitude 
as an entirely personal and subjective one. Like 
the mystics, he receives his enlightenment from within: 
God is revealed to him directly, and without the 
need of forms or rituals. Special revelations may 
have had their value in past times, but they fail to 
harbor the truth in any exclusive sense ; they draw their 
strength from the inner experience of those to whom 
they were vouchsafed, and this may be shared by any 
one at any time and place. The inner experience, the 
direct communion with God,—that is the all-important 
thing; more valuable by far than any teaching that is 
externally transmitted from man to man. 

A few quotations from our philosopher himself will 
make this position clearer. We shall begin with sev- 


eral of a heterodox nature. 
102 


EMERSON 103 


“The faith that stands on authority is not faith. 
The reliance on authority measures the decline of reli- 
gion, the withdrawal of the soul? . . . Jesus would 
absorb the race; but Tom Paine or the coarsest blas- 
phemer helps humanity by resisting this exuberance of 
power? ... I and my neighbors have been bred in 
the notion that unless we came soon to some good 
church,—Calvinism, or Behmenism, or Romanism, or 
Mormonism,—there would be a universal thaw or 
dissolution. . . . Yet we make shift to live. Men 
are loyal. Nature has self-poise in all her works ; cer- 
tain proportions in which oxygen and azote combine, 
and not less a harmony in faculties, a fitness in the 
spring and the regulator. The decline of the influence 
of Calvin, or Fénelon, or Wesley, or Channing, need 
give us no uneasiness. The builder of heaven has not 
so ill constructed his creature as that the religion, that 
is, the public nature, should fall out: the public and 
the private element, like north and south, like inside 
and outside, like centrifugal and centripetal, adhere to 
every soul, and cannot be subdued except the soul is 
dissipated. God builds his temple in the heart on the 
ruins of churches and religions.’ * 

And now a quotation of the opposite tenor, showing 
the emphasis which Emerson puts on the truths of re- 
ligion. 

“Unlovely, nay, frightful, is the solitude of the soul 


1 Emerson, Essays, First Series, Boston, 1896, p. 276. The quota- 
tions from Emerson’s Works in this chapter are made by per- 
mission of and special arrangement with Houghton Mifflin Com- 
pany. 

2 Essays, Second Series, p. 230. 

3Emerson, Conduct of Life, Boston, 1895, p. 195. 


104. HIRD YVGR BASSO ELEN RE RS 


which is without God in the world. ... To see 
men pursuing in faith their varied action, warm- 
hearted, providing for their children, loving their 
friends, performing their promises,—what are they to 
this chill, houseless, fatherless, aimless Cain, the man 
who hears only the sound of his own footsteps in God’s 
resplendent creation? To him, it is no creation; to 
him, these fair creatures are hapless spectres: he 
knows not what to make of it. To him, heaven and 
earth have lost their beauty. How gloomy is the day, 
and upon yonder shining pond what melancholy 
light! I cannot keep the sun in heaven, if you take 
away the purpose that animates him. ‘The ball, indeed, 
is there, but his power to cheer, to illuminate the 
heart as well as the atmosphere, is gone forever. It 
is a lamp-wick for meanest uses. The words, great, 
venerable, have lost their meaning ; every thought loses 
all its depth and has become mere surface.” * 

A prominent trait of the writings of Emerson is 
their optimism and power to cheer. In this they are 
probably unequalled by any other writings in the whole 
domain of literature. Words like his produce a sense 
of that blessedness which we elsewhere see arising as 
the result of a spiritual rebirth. But there 1s no 
antecedent misery, no struggle with a corrupt lower 
self that must be overcome. Consequently, if there 
is any truth to James’ division of human beings into 
the once-born and twice-born, Emerson would be a 
prominent example of the former category. He is 


1 Emerson, Lectures and Biographical Sketches, Boston, 1895, 
p. 213. 


EMERSON 10S 


decidedly once-born, as Carlyle and Tolstoi were twice- 
born. He seems to have been endowed from birth with 
the spirit of blessedness; serene, godlike exaltation is 
his native element. 


IBSEN 


NE of the great cultural powers of modern 
() times was. Ibsen. Though confining his 

writings to the domain of drama, he had a 
wide-spread influence on his contemporaries, and left 
his impress on the spirit of the age. 

His religious views are difficult to state, as he seems 
to have given no exact formulation of them. But we 
are probably justified in saying that, as he was opposed 
to so much that was traditional and ossified in the life 
around him, so also with reference to the teachings 
of the church. Indeed, his attitude is already clearly 
indicated in a poem written in his twentieth year, 
entitled Doubt and Hope. It depicts the terrors of a 
storm, and in the course of its lines Ibsen says: 


Ah once, yes once, when I was small, 
I prayed to God above 

For parents and for brethren all, 
With words of fervent love; 

But that was in the days of yore. 

My prayers are now forgot; 

I find no comfort in them more, 
Neglect has been their lot. 


To be sure, he adds in the last stanza: 


But no, despair shall not be mine. 


I'll heed the inner call, 
106 


IBSEN 107 


And refuge seek in hope divine, 
In God, the source of all. 


But this “conversion” under duress naturally counts 
for little when compared with the confessions of the 
preceding lines. 

The later works which yield us most light concerning 
Ibsen’s religious convictions are Brand and Emperor 
and Galilean. As already stated elsewhere in this 
volume, it is precarious to draw conclusions regarding 
_an author’s views from the words which he puts into 
the mouths of his characters. But from all that we 
know of Ibsen, we are probably right in attributing to 
him the sentiments which follow, and which are ex- 
pressed by Brand in the play of like name: 


No, I am not a preachifier, 
Nor do I speak as priests for hire; 
I may not even Christian be, 


Nor do I in my work pretend 

Or church or dogma to defend; 
From some beginning both are dated, 
And so it easily may be 

That we the end of both shall see.” 


Emperor and Galilean likewise offers us a clue to 
the author’s views. In this drama we have a por- 
trayal of the conflict between two ideals and con- 
ceptions of life,—zviz: between antique paganism and 


1Ibsen, Werke, Berlin, S. Fischer, Vol. I, p. 176. 
2 Jaeger, Henrik Ibsen, A. C. McClurg and Company, Chicago, 


1890, p. 170. 


1088 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


the Christianity by which it was supplanted. Ibsen 
seems to be satisfied with neither, as he speaks of a 
“third empire,” superseding both of the others, in 
which their drawbacks shall be absent. We are re- 
minded, in this connection, of the “third revelation” 
to which Lessing refers in his Education of the Human 
Race,—already mentioned in this volume,—which is 
to replace both the Old and New Testaments. 

Personally, Ibsen was fond of reading the Bible, 
but when this fact was favorably spoken of by 
religious people, he would gruffly explain: “It is only 
for the sake of the language.’! As to his more 
detailed religious views, to repeat, we have very little 
information. We can only surmise that he was not a 
Christian in the usual sense, and still less an admirer 
of the forms and traditions in which Christianity 
was embodied. 


1 Gosse, Henrik Ibsen, Charles Scribner’s Sons, New York, 1908, 
Dizer 


TOLSTOI 


‘her have been few writers more direct 
and outspoken than Tolstoi. He never hesi- 
tated to tell his opinions, and his style was 
the clearest imaginable; consequently there is little 
possibility of mistaking his meaning. | 

In his youth Tolstoi abandoned the creed of his 
fathers, and thereafter lived for many years in a state 
of comparative irreligiousness. Then he had an inner 
crisis, which resulted in reconversion to the Christian 
faith. This he accepted in its entirety for some time, 
taking part in all its external observances like any 
other orthodox believer. But as time went on, the 
unreasonableness of many of the church doctrines 
became evident to his mind. Voicing his opinions 
in his usual open and straightforward manner, he 
finally, in 1901, drew from the Holy Synod an edict 
of excommunication. He answered this in a char- 
acteristic statement, giving a clear and_ candid 
exposition of his views. To obtain a knowledge of 
these, nothing would be necessary beyond a repetition 
of his words. But as this would cover considerable 
space, and condensation is not easily possible, we shall 
avail ourselves of a passage from another work, so far 
as the negative half of his creed is concerned, and there- 
upon quote from the answer to the Synod in stating 
the more positive side of his views. 

109 


I1O SELLRATS Yo Ga EOS AGU LUN Karo 


“No religion ever proclaimed statements so obviously 
out of agreement with reason and contemporary human 
knowledge. Not to mention the absurdities of the Old 
Testament, such as the creation of light before the 
sun, the creation of the world six thousand years ago, 
the housing of all the species of animals in the ark, 
and various immoral abominations such as the direc- 
tion to murder children and whole populations at the 
command of God; not to mention also that absurd 
sacrament, about which Voltaire even used to say that 
though many different religions had existed and still 
existed, never before had there been one the principal 
religious act of which consisted of eating one’s God 
—to pass these things by, what can be more senseless 
than the assertions that the mother of God was both 
a mother and a virgin—that the sky opened and a 
voice was heard issuing from it—that Jesus flew away 
into the skies and is now sitting somewhere there on 
the right hand of the Father—or that God is One and 
Three, and not three Gods like Brahma, Vishnu, and 
Siva, but One, and at the same time Three? And 
what can be more immoral than that awful theology 
according to which God is cruel and revengeful, pun- 
ishes all men for the sin of Adam, and to save them 
sends His Son to the earth knowing beforehand that 
men will kill him and will be cursed for doing so; and 
that the salvation of men from sin consists in being 
christened, or in believing that all this is actually true, 
that the Son of God was killed by men for the salva- 
tion of men, and that those who do not believe this 
will be punished by God with eternal torments? So 
that leaving aside the additions, as some regard them, 


OUST Tur 


to the chief dogmas of this religion, such as the be- 
liefs in the various relics and ikons, of the Virgin 
Mary, of petitionary prayers directed to various saints 
according to their specialities,—leaving aside also the 
Protestant doctrine of predestination,—the founda- 
tions of this religion, established by the Nicene Creed, 
and recognized by every one, are so absurd and im- 
moral, and are developed to such a degree of contradic- 
tion to normal human feeling and reason, that men 
cannot believe them.” ? 

And now a short statement of the positive elements 
of his belief, as contained in the answer to the Synod, 
referred to above: 

“T believe in God, whom I comprehend as Spirit, 
as Love, as the Source of all. I believe that He is in 
me and I in Him. I believe that the Will of God 1s 
the most clearly and comprehensively expressed in 
the teaching of the man Christ,—to regard whom as 
God, and to pray to whom, I deem the greatest sacri- 
lege. I believe that the true welfare of man lies in the 
fulfilment of the Will of God; and that His will con- 
sists in men loving each other, and therefore behaving 
toward others as they desire that others should behave 
with them. ... I believe that the meaning of the 
life of every man, therefore, lies only in the increase 
of love in himself; that this increase of love leads the 
individual man in this life toward greater and greater 
welfare; that after death it gives the greater welfare 
the more love there be in the man; and that, at the 
same time, more than anything else, it contributes to 


1 Tolstoi, Kingdom of God, What is Art? What is Religion? 
New York, Thomas Y. Crowell Co., p. 220. 


112 PHIRTY -GREA TSUN R Rs 


the establishment of the Kingdom of God on earth, 7. e., 
to an order of life where the discord, deceit, and vio- 
lence which now reign will be replaced by free agree- 
ment, truth, and brotherly love between men.” 4 

Not only did Tolstoi express these opinions verbally, 
but he endeavored to carry them out in practice. For 
example, he made the principle of non-resistance to 
evil his own,—a principle which is based on the teach- 
ing of Christ, but which is so opposed to instinct and 
the apparent interests of men that few have ever se- 
riously tried to embody it in their conduct. As the 
result of his earnest endeavors to live up to the pre- 
cepts of the Master, his life had something holy and 
Christ-like about it; and if one were asked to name 
that man in modern times who came nearest the 
Nazarene in teachings and action, one would inevitably 
think of Tolstoi. We may add that his book entitled 
My Confession is one of the most remarkable descrip- 
tions of the process of religious conversion ever penned 
by man. 

Theoretically Tolstoi resembles Matthew Arnold in 
his rejection, on the one hand, of what is legendary 
and irrational in the Christian religion, and his glori- 
fication, on the other, of what is essential in it. Only 
he is more intense and vehement, both in regard to the 
positive and negative aspects of his teaching. Tem- 
peramentally he was allied to Carlyle. There was 
the same moral earnestness, the same gloomy, sombre 
aspect of thought, coupled with a similar proneness to 
violent outbursts of feeling and indignation. The re- 


1 Tolstoi, Complete Works, New York, Thomas Y. Crowell & 
COL Ob oCX Sayer, 


TOE SEOT ix! 


ligious outlook, too, was similar; only Carlyle, though 
disagreeing with Christian theology, laid comparatively 
little stress on the negative aspects of the matter, but 
constantly emphasized the truths of religion as op- 
posed to skepticism; while Tolstoi was equally assidu- 
ous on both sides of the question. He was fervent 
in attacking a false theology, and equally fervent in 
proclaiming the saving truths of religion. His views, 
accordingly, are appropriate as a closing chapter of our 
examination. He sums up admirably the trend of 
thought which great thinkers, for generations have 
been more and more adopting. He denies the claims 
of a narrow and literal theology; but he champions the 
cause of essential belief. 


CONCLUSION 


the first thing to impress us is the sharp difference 

between the religious views of the thinkers who 
lived in the 17th century and those who came after 
them. The former, we may recall, embraced six men. 
If we include Berkeley, who followed closely on their 
heels, we have only one out of seven—Spinoza—who 
did not profess Christianity. All believed—or at least 
pretended to believe—in the tenets of the church. But 
of the twenty-three thinkers who followed these seven, 
not a single one was strictly and unmistakably ortho- 
dox; in fact, only one or two could be designated as 
Christian in any sense at all agreeing with the tradi- 
tional one. It is clear that this difference in beliefs 
is not due to any difference in the reasoning powers 
of the men. It would be wrong to place all:these men 
in a row, and declare that the first seven just happened 
to affirm what the others denied. If reasoning alone 
were involved, there would not be such unanimity of 
verdict. Several of the earlier men would undoubt- 
edly be found refusing to accept the truths of Chris- 
tianity, and quite a number of the later ones would 
range themselves on the side of the believers. No, 
the unanimity with which the earlier thinkers say yes 
and the later ones no, must be based on something 

114 


[: summing up the results of our investigation, 


CONCLUSION 11s 


which the men of each group had in common,—and 
this was the spirit of the respective ages. 

The spirit of the 17th century was such as to dis- 
countenance a separation from the church: hence the 
agreement which our.earliest thinkers show in adher- 
ing to that institution. It is marvelous, indeed, to 
what extent we are governed—even the most independ- 
ent of us—by tradition and authority. Even today, in 
this age of comparative toleration and freedom of 
thought, it is difficult,—yes, impossible,—to escape their 
influence. A perfectly unbiased, neutral condition 
of mind would be that in which one belief or religion 
had the same chance for adoption as another. Yet 
imagine an inquirer among us trying to make up his 
mind concerning the religious beliefs of the world! 
What chance would Buddhism or Brahmanism have in 
his case? Absolutely none! These religions would 
not even be considered by him as serious possibilities, 
but would be ruled out of court before they ever had 
an opportunity to be heard. The same, of course, 
would be true of Christianity so far as the other 
countries were concerned: it would be as unthinkable 
for an individual in a Moslem centre to embrace the 
tenets of the Nazarene as it would be for us to become 
disciples of Mohammed. | 

Now, if this condition exists even with us, if we 
have not yet attained the vantage ground of perfect 
neutrality and impartial receptivity in regard to be- 
liefs, it is clear that the situation was even more hope- 
less in the 17th century. Ecclesiastical authority, as 
mentioned, was so powerful and so much a matter of 
course, that it was almost out of the question to doubt 


116 DHIR DY (GRE ASDA ELEN Fon Rss 


the truth of Christianity. In part, of course, this was 
also due to the absence of many elements of knowl- 
edge which are at our disposal today, and which have a 
bearing on the case. Science had not yet made the 
great progress which is the glory of modern times; 
above all, the doctrine of evolution was still unknown. 
People had not the knowledge of comparative religion 
which we have since gained. And Biblical criticism 
was a field quite untilled. 

All in all, the situation in the 17th century was 
such as to make an unbiased and reliable judgment 
on religious questions difficult, if not impossible. For 
this reason it will hardly be feasible to make a 
summing-up of our thinkers which shall include all 
thirty of the men. There are two distinct groups 
among these men, and they must be treated as such. 
The first group includes seven thinkers, as we have 
seen, of whom six were thoroughly Christian. Even 
the seventh, we are tempted to believe, would have pro- 
fessed the Christian faith, had he not been born and 
brought up a Hebrew. More important for our pur- 
pose, of course, are the opinions of the twenty-three 
men who followed Berkeley. These have been 
moulded by the freer influences of the last two centu- 
ries, and thus command greater weight in regard to 
illumination and guidance. The most prominent fea- 
ture of their views is the almost unanimous repudia- 
tion of the tenets of current Christianity. Nota single 
one of these men, we have seen, was unquestionably and 
thoroughly orthodox. Browning probably comes near- 
est to this position, yet even his opinions, we remember, 
were by no means clear, and he certainly held some 


CONCLUSION Th 


views which were inconsistent with the current teach- 
ings of the church. 

But while practically all of our modern reasoners 
thus rejected the strict dogmas of Christianity, they 
by no means subscribed to the tenets of atheism. The 
great majority were believers in a deity. Only about 
four could be classed as infidels, though four or five 
others would be designated as agnostics, or as such 
whose faith amounted to little more than a hope or the 
admission of a possibility. Nevertheless, two thirds 
of our twenty-three men were more or less firmly con- 
vinced of the existence of God. The doctrine of im- 
mortality, to be sure, was not defended quite so gen- 
erally, although it was upheld by about half of the 
total number (1. e., of twenty-three). Many of the 
believers recognized a deep underlying truth and beauty 
in the Christian faith, and some even proclaimed their 
acceptance of its teachings in a broader sense. Such 
were Fichte, Schelling, Hegel, Carlyle and Tolstoi. 
Tolstoi, in his Confession, describes a course of ex- 
perience which is practically identical with conversion. 
Carlyle depicts a similar transformation of inner life 
in his Sartor Resartus, though without the specific re- 
ligious framework. Spinoza and Fichte lay stress on 
a state of mind which is akin to the blessedness arising 
from the Christian surrender of self. Even Schopen- 
hauer, pessimist and unbeliever though he is, finds the 
closest approach to happiness of which mankind is 
capable in a denial of the self, and lauds the saints of 
religion as the greatest human beings. 

Taken all in all, the message of our philosophers is 
calculated to fill us with encouragement. They reject 


118 LHR DY GRE AS EURN TS ons 


those awful tenets of the traditional faith according 
to which the great majority of mankind are doomed to 
eternal torture; but they likewise agree that the uni- 
verse is not a homeless desert, but is ruled by a benef- 
icent power, which cares for us and on which we may 
lean in moments of weakness and distress. And they 
give us reason to believe that life may not be ended 
when we say good-bye to this world, but that we may 
pass on to higher realms of endeavor and satisfaction. 


APPENDIX 


r ; “AO illustrate the difficulties and dangers which 
were formerly involved in the free exercise 
of thought, we shall review some of the more 

important instances of persecution,—either directly by 

the church or by the authorities under the influence of 
the church. We shall not go into the innumerable 
cases involved in the Reformation, which have a more 
purely religious character,—such as the martyrdoms 

of Huss, Savonarola and Ramus,—but shall confine , 

ourselves to the persecution of men whose ideas were 

of influence beyond the strictly religious confines. 

Chronologically we may begin with the burning of 
Servetus, in the year 1553. This cruel fate was 
consummated with the sanction of the reformer, Cal- 
vin. It illustrates to what horrors religious fanaticism 
may lead. 

Next in time, and still more important, owing to 
the prominence of the victim, was the death at the 
stake of the illustrious Italian philosopher, Giordano 
Bruno. Bruno was one of the group of brilliant south- 
ern intellects who ushered in the period of modern 
philosophy, but the church was not receptive to new 
ideas, and put an end to the daring innovator in the 
usual manner. 

One of his contemporaries, the Italian Vanini, suf- 


fered a similar fate at Toulouse, in the year 1619. 
119 


120 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


It is peculiar that the work in which the traditional 
view of the universe was overthrown, De Revolution- 
thus Orbium Coelestium, and which was in conflict 
with the opinions which were tacitly involved, if not 
directly expressed, in the Bible, should have been ded- 
icated by its author, Copernicus, to the pope. Mean- 
while, the church was not slow in detecting the dangers 
involved in the new theory, and, Copernicus being dead, 
it put its heavy hand on his disciple, the illustrious 
Galileo. It is well known how this brilliant scientist 
was obliged to recant, and declare that it was the earth 
and not the sun which stood still. Whether the anec- 
dote according to which he added in an undertone 
“And yet it moves’’ is true or not, is uncertain. Cer- 
tain it is, however, that it did move, and it has been 
moving ever since, despite all threats and edicts of 
ecclesiastical bigots. 

As has already been mentioned, the experience of 
Galileo made a deep impression on Descartes; indeed, 
it caused him to stay the publication of a work which 
he feared might arouse antagonism. ‘This aspect of 
the matter must also be borne in mind. Not only did 
the church—and in using this term we are including 
Protestantism as well as Catholicism—endeavor to 
crush theories and authors which were not agreeable, 
but it doubtless kept many men from writing who might 
have enriched the world by their thoughts. How 
much has been lost in this way, it is of course im- 
possible to estimate. We only know of the actual 
persecutions; the potential ones, the books never writ- 
ten and thoughts never uttered, are known only to the 
omniscient Spirit of the Universe. 


APPENDIX I21 


To return to the realm of the actual, we have the 
case of Rousseau, recorded in the foregoing pages, 
who was obliged to flee from France, and who was 
hounded in the name of religion wherever he went, 
until he found refuge in the British Isles. Voltaire, 
his fellow-countryman, was also anathema, but he was 
deft and lucky enough to keep out of the embrace of 
his enemies. 

Passing to German soil, we find a similar state of 
affairs. The eminent philosopher Wolff, professor at 
the University of Halle, being attacked on account of 
the supposed irreligious character of his teachings, was 
expelled from the city and country in which he was 
residing under pain of death. This was in the year 
1723. As time went on the methods of persecution 
became less severe, to be sure, so that toward the end 
of the century we no longer find Lessing banished or 
threatened with death on account of the heterodox 
views brought forward in his controversy with Pastor 
Goeze, but merely forbidden to continue that contro- 
versy. Kant likewise had to desist for a season from 
writing on religious subjects, owing to a hint from 
“above.”’ And in 1799 Fichte, then professor at Jena, 
was attacked for his alleged atheism, the result of 
which was that he left his chair in order to avoid the 
impending official reprimand. 

It is but fair to say that England was remarkably 
free from the persecutions which disgraced other coun- 
tries of Europe, a fact which stands out as a bright 
page in the history of that nation. 

In regard to America, it is true that there have been 
no burnings at the stake. But it is an accusation 


122 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


often made, and one which likely has basis in fact, that 
a man who stands foremost in the ranks of those who 
fought for national independence and liberty, Thomas 
Paine, has received but scanty appreciation at the hands 
of historians and the public, on account of his radical 
religious views. A deplorable fact, which proves that 
narrowness of mind is confined to no race or country, 
but finds a home even under the freest institutions. 
Within the last century official persecutions have 
practically ceased. A man may have difficulty, at 
times, in obtaining or holding a position by reason of 
his religious views, but he is no longer in danger of 
being thrown into prison or punished for heresy. The 
church now confines itself to the weapons of abuse and 
ridicule; and it must be in the memory of all who have 
passed the middle period of life, what effective use it 
made of those weapons against that modest and noble, 
yes we might almost say holy man of science, Charles 
Darwin. But light and truth will prevail. Darwin- 
ism has come to be accepted by all but the backwoods- 
men, and the church is now without any universal ob- 
ject of attack. Let us hope that it will finally, after 
two thousand years, reach the level of toleration and 
brotherhood, cease its crucifixion of noble men, and 
adopt the teachings proclaimed by its founder. 


PARTIAL LIST OF WRITINGS IN WHICH THE 
RELIGIOUS VIEWS OF THE MEN CONSID- 
ERED IN THIS BOOK ARE LAID DOWN 


MILTON: 


LOCKE: 


DESCARTES: 


PASCAL: 


SPINOZA: 


LEIBNITZ: 


BERKELEY: 


HuME: 


ROUSSEAU : 


HOoLBACH: 


KANT: 


FICHTE: 


A Treatise on Christian Doctrine. 


Essay Concerning Human Under- 
standing. 


Meditations. 
Thoughts. 


Ethics. 
Theologico—Political Treatise. 


Theodicy. 


Alciphron: or, The Minute Phi- 
losopher. 


The Natural History of Religion. 
Of Miracles. 
Of the Immortality of the Soul. 


Emile. 

System of Nature. 

Critique of Pure Reason. 
Critique of Practical Reason. 


Die Religion innerhalb der Gren- 
zen der blossen Vernunft. 


Critique of all Revelation. 
Anweisung zum seligen Leben. 
123 


124 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


LESSING: 


CARLYLE: 
JoHN Stuart MILL: 


MATTHEW ARNOLD* 


RENAN: 


SCHOPENHAUER: 


NIETZSCHE: 


TOLSTOI: 


Controversial Writings against 
Goeze. 

Education of the Human Race. 

Nathan the Wise. 


Sartor Resartus. 
Three Essays on Religion. 


Literature and Dogma. 

God and the Bible. 

St. Paul and Protestantism. 

Last Essays on Church and Reli- 
gion. : 

Recollections of My Youth. 


On Religion (in Parerga and 
Paralipomena). 


The Antichrist. 


My Confession. 
My Religion. 
What is Religion? 


ViiSe PE EANEOUSIESSAN S 
A STATEMENT OF UNBELIEF 





A STATEMENT OF UNBELIEF 
I 


WAS at church. After years of absence I en- 
| tered the little wooden building once more, and 

listened to the words that had so often agitated 
me with hope and fear. 

The impressions that I received during the brief 
hours of the service were probably as numerous as 
those which many a regular attendant had reaped dur- 
ing the entire period of my absence. I found, not a 
quiet place of meditation, but a rich symphony of life, 
a maze of intricate, throbbing human interests. 

There was the mischievous boy, wriggling about in 
his seat, for whom toy whistles and chocolate drops 
formed the nucleus of existence; the gray-haired dea- 
con, with eyes growing dim to the sights of this world, 
but opening to the glories of the next; the portly 
elder, crediting himself with pious zeal in the ledger 
of heaven, but mistaking love of authority for zeal; 
the young lover, sending affection-scented glances to- 
ward the maiden in the choir, and this same maiden, 
receiving them in her innocent blue eyes and refracting 
them down to her palpitating heart; the sad man of 
learning, seeking for heart-stimulation, but finding 
nothing to stay on his intellectual stomach; the earnest 
minister, who has laid aside toy-whistles and worldly 

127 


128 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


honor, and who is intent only on the welfare of the 
human souls entrusted to him,—today more especially 
that of the wreath of young candidates for confirma- 
tion with which he is surrounded, the flowers of which 
he has nurtured individually and tied together with 
the ribbon of a common confession. 

What a medley of interesting humanity,—of emo- 
tion, desire, purpose, and thought! What a variety of 
spiritual stomachs, and all to be fed by the identical 
loaf! Will you be equal to the task, my dear min- 
ister, do you possess recipes cunning enough to satisfy 
such a diversity of appetites? 

Alas, it must be confessed, the loaf is not agreeable 
to all, and the judgment as to its total efficacy vacillates 
as we turn from face to face. 

For the boy the sermon is non-existent. It repre- 
sents a fixed length of time to be sat out, which he fills 
with plans for the afternoon’s sport. His neighbor 
reproves him for his restlessness, but believe me, dear 
neighbor, the lad deserves no censure: as well might 
he invite you to join him in his childish games—count 
marbles and gloat over sticks of candy—as for you 
to expect sustained attention from his active little 
mind. | 

For the young man, full of the champagne of animal 
spirits, the sermon is a collection of dry nouns and 
verbs, a meaningless concatenation of sentences, which 
fails to hook itself on to his interests with a single 
word, Everything that he endows with value—pleas- 
ure, riches, worldly power, honor, fame—is met with 
an unintelligible veto, everything opposed to instinct 


AXSTATEMENT OF UNBELIEF 129 


held up as the ideal of conduct. Can we blame him 
for becoming estranged from a church that has nothing 
but paralysis to offer him? The old impatience which 
long ago drove me out of the church-doors comes over 
me again, and my heart goes out to the young man 
who refuses to sleep because others are tired. 

Then there is the ceremony of confirmation. Would 
it be possible to imagine a bigger farce? 

“Dost thou now, in the presence of God and of this 
Congregation, renew the solemn promise and vow made 
in thy name at thy baptism? Dost thou ratify and 
confirm the same, and acknowledge thyself bound to 
believe and to do all those things which thy parents un- 
dertook for thee?’ ? 

Why not examine infants for the bar; why not 
sign compacts with nursing babes? 

Yet over in the next pew sits a ragged tramp whose 
eyes are filling with tears as he follows the ceremony 
at the altar. Doubtless he too stood unconcernedly 
before the minister once upon a time, doubtless he too 
was bored by many a sermon. However, in spite of 
the dross and the chaff with which the gospel was 
dealt out to him, it contained a precious core; it har- 
bored a seed of value, which at last gives promise 
of growth. 

And his were not the only moist eyes in the con- 
gregation, his not the only attentive ears, to which the 
words from the pulpit embodied a blessed experience. 
For many of those wrinkled men and women the 


1The Directory of Worship for the Reformed Church in the 
United States, p. 115. 


130 THIRTY (GREAT THINKERS 


weekly sermon is their poetry, music, consolation, and 
hope. Take the church from these people and you 
despoil life of its fairest flower; you destroy their 
refuge from care and extinguish the beacon-light which 
cheers them in the midst of a dreary existence. 

It 1s conceivable for the identical word to mean “yes” 
in one language and “no” in another. To the pro- 
posing lovers this outward fact or ‘“‘ceremony” will 
mean things of vital difference, according to the lan- 
guage in which it is spoken; yet it is the same complex 
of aerial vibrations which produces the difference of 
effect. May not the words of the pastor, the ceremo- 
nies of the church, be regarded in a similar light, as 
identical phenomena which nevertheless suggest mean- 
ings of world-wide difference? To the boy, the youth, 
and the scholar they mean nothing; but to the vener- 
able deacon, the devout old mother, they embody the 
highest truth. And may not they be right from their 
point of view? Have we mastered the intricacies of 
their language, dare we pronounce on the meaning of 
every word which it contains? 

Who, indeed, would endeavor to determine the 
total influence of a church or a sermon? As well 
might one undertake to follow all the subtle currents 
of electricity, light, heat, and sound that play through 
and about us. Who would endeavor to accompany 
the bird of passage, and record what hearts it cheers 
with its song today, what fields it despoils of its grain 
tomorrow? 

Two benefits of the church may be mentioned, with- 
out attempting to oppose them with corresponding 
detriments and draw up a resulting trial-balance of 


A STATEMENT OF UNBELIEF 131 


value. In this land and age of progress, where there 
is no past of tradition and institution to recline upon, 
where no august cathedrals and legend-enwoven cas- 
tles give impetus to the imagination and remind us of 
our debt to the past, it is the church which fulfils 
this office, which treasures up a wealth of poetic as- 
sociations, preserves a Christmas that loosens the ice 
around every heart, and an Easter that brings joy to 
the most prosaic. Holidays, “holy days,’ are not made 
by law and command: witness the French Revolution. 
Nor are they guaranteed by a century. Despite the 
glorious memories associated with our Fourth of July, 
how tawdry and common the aspect of this day when 
compared with the gladness of Yuletide and the mys- 
terious charm of Good Friday. The. life of a nation, 
as of an individual, is enriched by memory, and it is 
the church which preserves the living memory of past 
ages. 

Then too, the church is the home of much of the 
purest, most elevated feeling in the world. Whatever 
hypocrisy and indifference it may harbor, a glance at 
the loving eyes of the sister of charity, and at the 
clear, serene expression of the country parson, reas- 
sures us that there is a nucleus of sound value in 
Christian teaching. The true cathedral, to be sure, 
may be everywhere: the sky may be its nave and the 
sun its censer; yet there may be little niches in this 
cathedral that are visited oftener by the kind and 
meek, where the better feelings of the heart more com- 
monly find vent, and where the light of heaven more 
frequently steals in; and these cloistered spots are the 
churches. 


132 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


II 


Yet I do not go to church. I hesitate before giving 
my religious contribution, and do not accompany it 
with the same spirit of readiness with which I support 
the park concerts or the agitation against political 
corruption. 

The church may promote kindness, yet I will not 
promote the church. My reason refuses to accept its 
teachings, and I cannot work redemption with an un- 
truth. I disbelieve through belief, and have so strong 
a faith in truth that I will not swerve from it even 
to serve my fellow-man. I may tell a falsehood in 
breaking disastrous news to a fond mother, but I will 
not be a party to an elaborate and systematic attempt 
to hoodwink humanity and lull it into obedience with 
an illusion. : 

The guidance of the cosmos has not been entrusted 
to my care: I am unable to fathom the deep ends of 
creation or understand the mysterious means by which 
they are realized. The safest course to pursue, ac- 
cordingly, is to perform the duty of the hour, look 
things squarely in the face, and truthfully announce 
what I see. 

I keep my balance and go about my business where 
the advantage of stooping and meddling is dubious. 
“Who, indeed, would endeavor to determine the total 
influence of a church or a sermon?” In spite of the 
apparent benefits of Christianity, who has it figured 
out that the religious policy he is pursuing will actually 
end with a greater amount on the credit than on the 
debit side? What has frowned on me as an evil has 


A STATEMENT OF UNBELIEF 133 


often turned out to be good, and what I cherished 
as good has soured into an evil. While I am not 
sure, however, how great the benefit of orthodoxy 
will be, I am sure that in supporting orthodoxy I am 
furthering what in my innermost self I call an un- 
truth. But shall I espouse a certain untruth for the 
sake of an uncertain good? Shall I not trust that 
inner voice which assures me that in the last instance 
the true and the good must coincide? Must not that 
which systematically and perseveringly misrepresents 
be opposed to the highest good, and that which is heroi- 
cally true be in victorious league with it? I cannot 
verify this intuition, yet I have a secret faith in it, and 
am content to adopt it for my rule of life. 

Go your ways, then, brethren of the pulpit and the 
pew! Accomplish what good you may, and God bless 
you for your noble efforts! I, for my part, must stand 
aloof, and withhold the assistance you request. It is 
a question as to the choice of masters, and I feel my 
affinity for Truth. I will regard your doings with per- 
fect tolerance, and call you brethren through our com- 
mon allegiance to the higher master and overseer, 
Duty. Perhaps we are both working for the same 
great ends, both subserving a common harmony, though 
momentarily moving toward opposite points of the 
moral key-board. Perhaps, if we understood the laws 
of cosmic thorough-bass, we should realize that both 
formed necessary voices in the universal symphony. 

For the present, however, I must play my part, which 
demands my total attention: the notes are before me, 
and I must render them as faithfully as I can. May 
the result be universal discord or concord, the notes 


134. THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


are there and I must play them! You for the good 
by means of illusion, I for the truth at all costs. Both 
for good purposes and with good intentions, both on 
parallel tracks through the sincerity of our endeavors; 
but both pursuing our own paths, and like parallel 
lines, unable to meet without swerving from our ap- 
pointed courses. 


Ill 


What makes me so sure, however, that I am work- 
ing redemption with an untruth? How do I know that 
the words of the gospels embody illusions, and that it 
is not I who belong to the deluded, while my orthodox 
brethren are harbored on the side of truth? 

In answer, it is difficult to make a beginning, dif- 
ficult to choose from among the innumerable points of 
defense and retort. How compress into a few words 
all that it has taken years of slow growth to establish 
in the mind, all that has made me doubt and reject 
ever since as a youth I began to think? At most I can 
offer a few synopses of the courses of reasoning that 
expelled orthodoxy from my mind; I shall give the 
head-lines of my arguments, while the reader himself 
must carry them out in detail. 

First we may admit that there is much in the Holy 
Scriptures to which we can freely assent. There is 
much of a historical nature that we may accept as we 
accept the statements of any accredited historical docu- 
ment. There is much concerning the right method of 
life that embodies the highest wisdom, and that is 
borne out by the experience of centuries. 

But besides these valuable elements there are fea- 


A STATEMENT OF UNBELIEF 135 


tures which refuse to assimilate with my mental con- 
stitution. I will believe that there was a leader by 
name of Moses, but I will not believe that he con- 
versed with Jehovah or received the ten commandments 
from his hand. I will believe that there was a teacher 
by name of Jesus, but I will not believe that he was the 
unique son of God, or that he arose from the dead 
and flew toward heaven. The creation of the earth 
in six days, the preservation of terrestrial life in a boat, 
the miraculous conception of a human being, the ar- 
rest of the sun,—these are the indigestible elements, 
which the mind refuses to accept. 

And it does so for the same reasons for which 
it withholds assent from the labors of Hercules, the 
exploits of Thor, the wonders of Indian religion, the 
witchcraft stories of the Middle Ages, and the medium- 
ship reports that flourish so luxuriantly even under the 
bright sun of modern rationalism. 

The marvels which every boat carries from India, 
nay, those which daily take place in our own spirit- 
ualistic circles, are fully as great as those recorded in 
Holy Writ. Yet we refuse them credence. We will 
not believe what our friends have witnessed and what 
eminent men of learning have vouched for; but we be- 
lieve the same things if they happened in Palestine two 
thousand years ago. We look askance at the premoni- 
tion of an intelligent American, if it was not put down 
in writing at the time of its occurrence and corrobo- 
rated by trustworthy witnesses; but we accept the an- 
cient accounts of a resurrection, even though they were 
not entrusted to paper until decades after the event. 

The story of William Tell, about which there is 


136 SEUDR dive GRAGT RT oa TUN is hoses 


nothing intrinsically improbable and which is backed 
by the tradition of an entire nation, is relegated to the 
domain of myth. It is deemed possible that the whole 
world should have been duped for centuries as to the 
authorship of its greatest tragedy. Yet we shake our 
heads in holy doubt when we are told that an illusion 
gained currency in the Palestine backwoods at a time 
when illusions were as plentiful as weeds. 

Is it not more likely that an illusion should have oc- 
curred in a credulous age than that the laws of happen- 
ing should have been rudely pierced by a miracle? All 
religious writings of the olden times are spiced with 
miracles; why should those of the Hebrews and Chris- 
tions be exempt? We reject the miracles in all other 
writings; why not in those of the Hebrews and Chris- 
tians? 

However, it is not only to miracles in the narrower 
sense that we must object, but to everything miracu- 
lously unique and exceptional in the Divine Book. 
First, there is the assertion that the Bible is the Word 
of God, in a sense in which this cannot be maintained 
of any other document. Then there is the assertion 
that a belief in this book, together with all that it im- 
plies—baptism, the observance of one day in seven, 
and so forth—is essential to salvation. And finally 
there are the fantastic occurrences which constitute the 
miracles in the narrower sense of the word. 

To be sure, I am not a theological specialist, and 
have not devoted years to the study of Hebrew history 
and philology. I may be answered by arguments con- 
cerning particular words and dates, may be confronted 
with historical evidences that certain miraculous events 


A STATEMENT OF UNBELIEF Ta 7, 


did really occur, and that the truth of Christianity is 
accordingly established. 

However, I have neither the time nor the inclination 
to go into these matters. The history of polemics on 
this subject reveals an endless interchange of asser- 
tions and rebuttals, one line of argument being over- 
thrown by newer discoveries, and these again being 
met by later arguments of a reactionary nature. For 
him who has the leisure, it may be interesting to fol- 
low this theoretic see-saw, and the subtleties evolved 
may of course have a bearing on the truth or falsity 
of the things in dispute. I will not believe, however, 
that they have a bearing on my salvation. I do not 
believe that salvation depends on the amount of one’s 
technical knowledge about Semitic philology. As well 
might one say that it was determined by the colour 
of one’s hair or formation of the teeth. 

No, I have pondered considerably on these matters, 
and my conclusions have been negative. The busi- 
ness of life presses, and it is time to arrive at a deci- 
sion. To the best of my insight, I cannot accept what 
is indicative of the divine, supernatural character of 
Holy Writ; I am forced to reject all that appears 
strange and fantastic in it, and if I do this, I retain. 
merely an ordinary, human book, with ordinary, hu- 
man communications. I do not believe that closer 
study will upset this conclusion, for the tendency of 
investigation has been to shake rather than confirm the 
authority of the divine writings. Neither do I be- 
lieve that my lot after death will depend on the school 
of historical interpretation to which I belong. I shall 
not be saved or rejected according to the nature of my 


138 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


theoretical conclusions, according to my readiness to 
accept the witchcraft and materialization stories on 
which orthodoxy builds its faith. 


IV 


But why not adopt this skeptical view and never- 
theless support the church? Why not merely proclaim 
Christ as the embodiment of the noblest life, thereby 
doing no violence to the reasoning instincts and yet 
joining in the Christian mission and working for the 
elevation of mankind? 

We can do this, to be sure, but as soon as we re- 
linquish the “divine” significance of the Bible, the elec- 
tric current which vivified its words is turned off, and 
they drop down lifelessly, like iron-filings from a 
demagnetized object. If the charm of an amulet does 
not reside in the occult qualities of this particular ob- 
ject, but in the disinfectant, medicinal virtues which it 
shares with innumerable other objects, the amulet ceases 
to be such in the proper sense of the word, and falls 
into the category of ordinary pharmaceutic devices. 

So Jesus and the Bible are amulets only while we 
regard them as unique and peculiar manifestations of 
a divine energy. The divinity alleged to reside in them 
is the electric current which holds us with magnetic 
power. Turn off this current and the attraction ceases; 
like filings, we drop away and roll wherever gravity 
pulls us. 

Nor will the assertion that Jesus and the Bible are 
unique inasmuch as they embody the highest manifesta- 
tions of virtue, give them a special claim on our devo- 


A STATEMENT OF UNBELIEF 139 


tion. Once relinquish the theory of divinity, and such 
claims are open to the same objections as the demand 
for the worship of any other great man or book. We 
may oppose them with the same arguments with which 
we should meet the request to set aside a special day 
for the admiration of Socrates, Epictetus, Carlyle or 
Spinoza. You may regard Jesus as the perfect man, 
but I may see as much perfection in Marcus Aurelius, 
another will prefer Goethe, a third Emerson, and a 
fourth Napoleon! Who is to decide in this maze of 
opinions, who to establish the standard of perfection? 

The special divinity of Christ is the one allegiance- 
compelling feature, which rules out all doubts and razes 
all individual opinions; once give this up and_ the 
founder of Christianity has no greater claim on our 
adoration than any particular writer or work of secular 
literature. While Jesus can say: “I am the way, 
and the truth, and the life: no one cometh unto the 
Father, but by me,”’ we have only to accept or reject 
his statement, follow or turn away from the road he 
opens. Reduce him to a mere doctor of morality, on 
the contrary, and the alternatives are legion. Admit 
that the salutary influence of Mecca resides only in 
the sunlight that brightens its streets and the food its 
inns supply, and the necessity of going to Mecca ceases. 

And what though Jesus may on the whole embody 
the highest ideal of life, must every one therefore re- 
serve a special hour for his worship? Ideals, too, 
are relative matters, and the people we set up as 
models, like those we choose for matrimonial mates, 
depend on our special needs. ‘The timid, hesitating 
person must be inspired by resolute men and heroes, 


140 THIR GY |. GREATS TEEN KR 


the unscrupulous man of action by philosophers and 
saints. The tone e may go well with c, but f requires 
a for its mate. 

Then, too, there is a cyclical succession in our ideals, 
similar to the farmer’s rotation of crops. Like cer- 
tain plants, heroes and ideals often bloom but once; 
they spread joy and perfume for a season, but ever 
after possess only the faded glory of pressed flowers. 
They thrill us and vivify us with power, but presently 
descend from the zenith of glory and set in the west 
of indifference. 

Let us not, therefore, insist on this hero or that 
ideal as the constant, unique Mecca of devotion; let 
us give free scope to the affinities of the soul, and allow 
the stars to rise and fall in their natural order; then 
Jesus will also soar resplendently to the zenith, when the 
proper time arrives, and shed pure, sweet light on the 
wondering eyes beneath. 


Vv 


Now, however, let me extend my hand across the 
gap which seems to separate me from my Christian 
brethren, and affirm our fundamental unanimity. 

Have you ever considered the question: which hu- 
man beings belong together and which do not? Do 
lodge and party badges, certificates of occupation, 
castes, nationalities, races, and creeds separate men 
into classes and mark them off as good and bad, breth- 
ren and enemies? Do not the real differences run 
deeper, and, ridiculing our artificial human fences, 


A. STATEMENT OF UNBELIEF I4I 


unite the most diverse into secret fraternities, of which 
natural affinities are the insignia? 

Imagine four boys at school, doing an example in 
arithmetic. A uses the right method and obtains the 
‘correct answer, B uses the proper method but makes a 
mistake in his figuring and obtains a wrong result; 
C copies the answer of A, D that of B. Which of 
these boys belong together: A and C, with the right 
answer, as opposed to B:and D, with the wrong one; 
or A and B, with the right method, as opposed to the 
other two? Assuredly the latter would be the proper 
division, according to which the standings of the pu- 
pils would be determined. 

In life there is a similar distinction: it is the op- 
position between practical and theoretic faith. The- 
oretic faith is what we ordinarily designate by this 
term—the conscious assent by the mind to certain 
propositions, the mental affirmation that certain things 
are true. Practical faith, on the contrary, may be 
defined as the fitness of a line of conduct to the actual 
constitution of things,—in our particular case to the 
constitution of the universe. If a man’s motives and 
acts are such as would fit into a world ruled by a divine 
power and in which souls continue to exist after death, 
he may be said to possess a practical faith in such a 
world. If, on the other hand, they agree with a world 
without higher outlook, he is a practical atheist, no 
matter what his verbal statement of belief. 

Now, practical faith may be compared to the meth- 
ods of the school-boys, theoretic faith to their answers. 
The latter resembles an oral protestation of love, the 


142 DHIRTY; GREAT THINKERS 


former is this love itself. In theoretic faith the in- 
tellect declares itself in harmony with the Infinite, in 
practical belief the entire personality stretches forth 
its arms toward the Infinite and proclaims acceptance 
of its decrees. 

Theoretic faith by itself is a promise without ful- 
fillment, a facade without background; practical faith 
is a serviceable building, in which only the completing 
facade is wanting. It is the substance of life, which 
has not yet found its mental mirror. It corresponds 
to the great forces of gravity, faithfully and uncon- 
sciously doing their work of holding the solar system 
together, and unmindful of the fact that the Newton 
has not yet arrived to formulate their workings into a 
recognizable law, 

Here, too, various alternatives are possible. A man 
may use the right method and get the right answer; 
or he may make a mistake in his syllogistic calculations 
and land on the wrong side. Conversely he may use 
a faulty procedure and yet get hold of the correct re- 
sult. The ideal condition, of course, is that in which 
both method and conclusion are correct. Where this 
is not realized, the method is more important than the 
answer. It is the criterion or badge according to 
which. people should be grouped, and on the basis of 
which our heavenly teacher will determine our rank 
in the school of life. Oral confessions of faith and in- 
tellectual beliefs do not combine and separate people 
into classes, but actions, methods, and attitudes. Or- 
thodox and heterodox, accordingly, may belong to- 
gether, even though their lips pronounce different words 
and their brains think different thoughts. The true 


A STATEMENT OF UNBELIEF 143 


and noble in the Christian ranks may be closely affili- 
ated with the distrusted infidels, if only the latter are 
also true and noble.? 


VI 


But do the brains of believers and unbelievers really 
think different thoughts? 

If a friend drops a silver dollar into my left hand, 
and another places a ten dollar bill into my right, I 
seem to have received two different amounts. How- 
ever, if friend number one is worth a thousand dol- 
lars, while friend number two is rated at ten times that 
amount, the sums are equivalent, both representing 
similar fractions of the fortunes out of which they are 
respectively cut. 

So articles of faith which are apparently incom- 
patible may be similar with reference to their bearings 
and relations, while similar ones may be different. 
Beliefs, too, have essential as well as superficial as- 


11t might be objected that we were indulging in a mere trick 
of words, and that practical faith, as described, were not faith 
at all, the opposition being the plain old distinction between 
works and faith. Even so, the relative value of the two would 
be the same. But in its deeper sense conduct indeed seems to 
imply a sort of unformulated faith. Ask a person whether life 
is worth living, and the surprised expression on his face will 
show that he has never considered the question; yet all his acts, 
if he is normal, imply that he believes it 7s worth living. Or, to 
take a more specific example, consider Maggie’s words in The 
Mill on the Floss, where, after being led away from home by 
Stephen Guest and told that it was impossible to return un- 
married, she cries out: “Lucy will believe—she will forgive you, 
and—and—oh, some good will come by clinging to the right.” 
Faith like this often accompanies our acts, even though it may 
not be as clearly formulated. 


144 IDET TR DY GRR AST SELES Es hoes 


pects, and there may be an essential agreement with a 
superficial difference, and an essential difference with 
a superficial agreement. 

Take the statement that the souls of the departed 
live at the south pole; though apparently incompatible 
with the supposition that they live on other planets, 
the difference would dwindle if we were to put the 
former declaration into the mouth of a medizeval rea- 
soner, comparing it with the other as it appears in the 
light of modern knowledge. For the medieval philos- 
opher, the earth was the centre of the material uni- 
verse, and the celestial luminaries circled about it as 
comparatively insignificant bodies. The unknown ter- 
restrial regions thus formed the bulk of what remained 
of the material universe after the known regions had 
been subtracted. They were the outlying portions 
of the known world, the other, complementary parts, 
which, together with the familiar ones, constituted 
habitable reality, 

Today, however, we know that the earth is but one 
among numerous coordinate planets, all revolving 
about a gigantic central body, while the solar system 
itself is but a trifling fraction of the universe. The 
south pole, accordingly, has assumed a different sig- 
nificance. The other supposedly habitable regions of 
the universe—especially the planets which are cool 
enough to support life—are now more nearly analogous 
to the unknown sections of former times; they are 
now the outlying, surrounding regions, the other parts, 
which remain after the familiar ones have been de- 
ducted. Expand the world-view of the medizeval rea- 
soner, and the souls of the departed will be crowded 


eS Pa) EVM TONGS OB GIN BETTE: 145 


off the south pole and propelled into space. Contract 
that of the modern, and they will be drawn back from 
their transmundane abodes and settle in the outlying, 
undiscovered regions. 

Far different from either of these beliefs is the 
theory according to which death is not a mere migra- 
tion from one country to another, a change of place 
expressible in geographic terms, but rather a change 
of condition, a total metamorphosis of being. Even 
this, however, may be so interpreted as to coincide es- 
sentially with the other views. He who believes that 
the dead live elsewhere in the solar system, may be un- 
trained in the sciences; he knows but little about south 
pole and planets, still less about the possibility of dif- 
ferent cycles or powers of existence; the alterations of 
being of which he is cognizant are few, and are expres- 
sible only by the familiar distinctions of space, time 
and material form. Yet he has a dim conception of 
radically different modes of thought and feeling, but 
he dresses these differences in external variations. He 
has faith in transformations and metamorphoses, but 
he believes they could be effected by material changes. 
The south pole and planets, indistinct and fantastic as 
they are in his mind, really stand for different powers 
of existence; they are identified with the beyond, the 
otherness of being, instead of representing merely an 
extension of ordinary existence ; they embody the alter- 
native to the present, familiar state, the mysterious, 


~ unknown, complementary aspect of life. 


It is clear, then, that apparently divergent beliefs 
may really be similar. Let us add another example, in 
which the identical statement may denote things so 


146 THIRTY (GREAT THINKERS 


radically different as to provoke either approbation or 
dissent, according to the angle from which it is viewed. 

If a man had asserted, two hundred years ago, that 
it was impossible to construct brick walls downward, 
he would have received universal assent. Is his state- 
ment invalidated today, when our modern steel struc- 
tures make it possible to begin with the upper sections of 
a wall and gradually proceed downward? In one 
sense of the word it may be, in another it is not. A 
wall may primarily signify the side of a house, which 
shuts off the building from the rest of the world and 
encloses the space within. It may also mean that part 
which supports the upper stories and roof. If the first 
connotation was prominent in the mind of the assertor, 
his statement has indeed been refuted by the modern 
developments of building; for walls in the sense of en- 
closing surfaces can be built from top to bottom. The 
chances are, however, that the other connotation was 
foremost, the statement being intended to convey the 
meaning that it was impossible to begin a structure 
with its unsupported elements, and thus to violate the 
laws of gravity. 

In this sense the assertion is still valid; for if, in- 
deed, it is feasible to begin with the upper parts of a 
wall, this is because the walls are no longer the sup- 
porting members, but merely fulfil the office of enclos- 
ing surfaces. The steel frameworks have appropriated 
the supporting function, and they, indeed, cannot be 
built downwards. But even if it should ever become 
practicable to do this with the help of balloons and 
flying-machines, even if we were able absolutely to 


A STATEMENT OF UNBELIEFP 147 


begin at the top, without any substructure whatever, 
the statement would still remain unshaken. The col- 
umns of air supporting the balloons would replace the 
frameworks, and gravity would maintain its rights.’ 

It is possible, then, for different statements to mean 
the same things, and likewise for the same statement 
to mean different things. But if this is true of such 
precise and clear-cut propositions, may it not be true, 
as well, of the mystic conceptions of religion? Think 
of the innumerable meanings that have been attached to 
the word “God,” and then wonder that there have been 
differences of opinion regarding the Deity! Think of 
the diverse interpretations of virtue, sin, salvation, be- 
lief, creation, revelation, and immortality,—and then 
marvel that there should be a multiplicity of creeds! 
Religion, indeed, is a Tower of Babel, where one and 
the same thought may receive expression in a thou- 
sand different ways, and where human beings who are 
animated by the same purpose are totally unable to 
comprehend one another. 

Let us not be rash, accordingly, in constructing 
fences between ourselves and our neighbors. Let us 
not be eager to fling about detractive appellations. 
We may not be sufficiently versed in the deeper or- 
thography of beliefs to be sure that we are using the 
proper words. We may cry “atheist,” while the great 
Father pronounces it with the accent shifted. From 
our distorted point of view we may see right, but if we 


1The author has a vague impression that the idea embodied 
in the last two paragraphs was suggested to him, years ago, in 
one of Prof. Santayana’s classes at Harvard. But the working- 
out is entirely his own. 


148 VHIRTY (GREAT ser MNKs 


move into the proper position the separation between 
the letters appears, and we may be compelled to read: 
a theist. 


VII 


The statement of unbelief has been growing paler, 
while the statement of belief has been emerging more 
and more. It could readily step forward, now, and 
take up the scene; but for the sake of unity it seems 
better to ring down the curtain and postpone its com- 
munications. Much of the preceding has been nega- 
tive, but its negativity, we hope, was constructive. It 
teemed with promise and hope even while it destroyed. 
With this let us end. Let us rest on the negative 
conclusions as on a half cadence, regarding them as a 
forerunner of renewed assertion, which already fore- 
shadows the complete cadence that is to come. 


THE ERRORS OF CHRISTIANITY 





THE ERRORS OF CHRISTIANITY 


N the preceding essay we touched upon the rea- 
sons which led us to reject the system of orthodox 
Christianity. Here we shall enter into those rea- 

sons more fully, and present a systematic array of ar- 
guments which speak against the adoption of that 
faith.? 

To begin with, we must realize that we do not believe 
in the Christian religion because reason has convinced 
us of its truth. Not one out of ten churchgoers could 
give a rational foundation for his belief, not one out 
of a hundred has ever compared it with the creeds 
that are professed by other peoples. We simply be- 
lieve because we have been taught to, and because 


1 It may be objected that the title of this essay is not accurate, 
that Christianity as taught by its founder is not identical with 
“orthodoxy”, and that the heading should accordingly be made 
to read “The Errors of Orthodox Christianity.” In answer 
we must repeat what was said in the introduction to the book, 
that we are accepting that as Christianity which has from time 
immemorial been taught under the name, and which is still be- 
lieved in by the majority of Christians. What Christ did or 
did not actually teach is a question into which we do not wish 
to enter. But it is a fact that from the initial formulation of 
the Christian faith, in the early days of the church, until the 
most recent years, Christianity has been understood and accepted 
in a sense not differing appreciably from that of the orthodox 
system. And though many of the most enlightened theologians 
- of today take issue with this position, and announce that the 
teachings of the Saviour have been grossly misrepresented, the 
great majority of communicants still adhere to the traditional 
view. So that we are justified in disregarding the conflict be- 
tween theologians, and adhering to the title we have chosen. 

ISI 


152 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS / 


others do so likewise. But the fact that many people 
assent to a thing does not make it true. Everybody 
had implicit faith in witches once upon a time, yet 
witches did not exist. And the whole world was con- 
vinced for thousands of years that the sun moved 
around the earth, until a wise man proved the opposite 
to be true. Truth is not established by ballot, and 
the insight of one penetrating intellect may counter- 
balance the unthinking judgment of millions of people. 
If we lived in India, we should as naturally embrace 
the teachings of Brahmanism as we now do those of 
Christianity, and our present beliefs would seem as 
impossible as the others. And if the Hindoo were 
born and bred in our midst, he would as naturally 
adopt Christianity as he now does his own religion, 
and the latter would mean nothing to him. It is all 
a matter of geography and environment, and thus in 
the last analysis of accident. 

But, it may be interposed, we are more cultivated 
than the Hindoo, whence our beliefs are more likely 
to be true. It is questionable whether the Hindoo him- 
self would assent to this estimate of relative cultiva- 
tion. He might admit that we were more advanced 
in a material sense, but would likely deny our spirit- 
ual superiority. And even if the claim were justified, 
it would only establish a greater degree of truth for 
our religion, but not absolute truth as opposed to 
falsity. For the Hindoo, himself, is more cultivated 
than many other people, and his religion, accordingly, 
ought to have some truth. But the whole supposition 
underlying the argument is faulty. It is by no means 
clear that the more civilized a nation, the truer must 


Poe ORRORS Ob CHRIS TEANI Tyee s3 


be its religion. As well declare that its art must be 
finer, or that the others have no art at all! Civiliza- 
tion rests on many elements and superiority may flow 
from any one of these. The Egyptians surpassed 
every nation, once upon a time, yet their religion was 
not true. The Greeks and Romans, likewise, were 
preéminent in their day, without lending certitude to 
the creeds which they professed. There is no outer 
mark of excellence to our faith, indeed, which cannot 
be matched elsewhere. Did the Christian belief spread 
rapidly? The Mohammedan spread more rapidly still. 
Is it held by millions of people? The Buddhistic has 
been held by even more. Are those who profess it 
highly civilized? The Greeks were equally advanced. 

Now, if we thoroughly realize that our belief is not 
based on reasonable assent, but only on the constant 
reiteration of statements by our parents and teachers, it 
loses some of the unquestionable authority which it 
had, and we are ready to consider it on its merits. 
It has been neutralized, and stands before the bar of 
our judgment on a par with other beliets. 

The next step will then be to consider whether there 
is any internal authority for the belief, which gives it 
precedence over other creeds. It has been held, from 
time immemorial, that the Bible was a divinely in- 
spired book, whose statements were to be accepted 
without question. But as we read this book, in order 
to learn whereon the claim is based, we are surprised 
to find that there is hardly any basis for such a claim. 
A few of the minor prophets, to be sure, begin with 
the phrase, “The-Word of Jehovah that came unto 
(Hosea, Joel, etc.)”; and Revelation opens with the 


154 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


specific statement that this is the “Revelation of Jesus 
Christ, which God gave him... and he sent and 
signified it by his angel unto his servant John.” 1 
But in regard to the Prophets, it is by no means clear 
exactly what the writers wished to convey with their 
opening statements, or how minute and detailed was 
the prompting to which they referred; while in any 
case, both here and in Revelation, the introductory 
words have reference only to the particular books which 
are introduced, and make no claim whatever regard- 
ing the half a hundred other books which constitute 
the body of the Bible. 

Apart from this, the scriptural evidence for inspira- 
tion is based largely on the two following passages: 
“From a babe thou hast known the sacred writings 
which are able to make thee wise unto salvation through 
faith which is in Christ Jesus. (Paul is speaking to 
Timothy.) Every scripture inspired of God is also 
profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for 
instruction which is in righteousness.” II Tim. iii, 
15, 16. “No prophecy of scripture is of private in- 
terpretation. For no prophecy ever came by the will 
of man: but men spake from God, being moved by the 
Eloy eopinitin ial beter, wow Tt 

Is there any foundation, in these passages, for the 
exalted claims which have been based upon them? 
Let us examine the passages in detail. What does the 
apostle mean when he says: “inspired of God?” Does 
he refer to verbal dictation, like that of an employer to 

1 The Bible Text used in this volume is taken from the Ameri- 


_can Standard Edition of the Revised Bible copyright 1901 by 
Thomas Nelson & Sons and is used by permission. 


Hb ERRORS OF CHRISTIANITY: (155 


his stenographer, or is the inspiration akin to that of 
Shakespeare or Goethe, when they feel the upwelling 
of deep thoughts. (Beethoven, we may recall, is said 
to have received one of his compositions directly 
from heaven.) Evidently there is nothing in the 
apostle’s words to favor the former interpretation 
rather than the latter. Nor is there anything to de- 
limit and describe exactly what he has in mind when 
he speaks of the ‘“‘sacred writings” and “every scripture 
inspired of God.” Since Timothy has known these 
writings from babyhood, it is likely that the books 
of the Old Testament alone are meant. Certainly 
the present epistle, from which we are quoting, cannot 
be included. And so we have an authority for divine 
inspiration in which both terms are vague: we don't 
know what is supposed to be inspired, and we don't 
know what the inspiration is supposed to consist of ! 

Equally unsatisfactory is the passage from Peter. 
To be “moved” by the Holy Ghost may refer to an 
influence of a most general character, far different 
from the exact dictation which is involved in the theory 
of plenary inspiration. And in regard to delimitation, 
the situation is more hopeless even than with the passage 
from Timothy. Here, again, it is likely that the Old 
Testament alone is meant. . But this time it does not 
even seem to be the Old Testament in its entirety, but 
only the prophecies contained therein. As in the other 
case, the epistle from which we are quoting can cer- 
- tainly not be included. 

So then, the New Testament is excluded from the 
list of writings which, on the basis of our passages, 
are supposed to be inspired. But if the New Testa- 


156 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


ment is uninspired, there is no authority for the pas- 
sages themselves, and the whole argument collapses. 
The situation resembles that of the men who wished 
to be introduced to a young lady. “You introduce me 
first,’ suggested the one, “then I will introduce you!” 
So the New Testament, uninspired, is supposed to give 
credence to the Old, whereupon the Old will most 
likely turn round and substantiate the New! Or, to 
choose another example, the situation is like that of 
the man who wished to cash a check. Being asked to 
identify himself, he brought forward a friend, but 
alas! this friend was himself unknown to the officials 
of the bank. A claim has value only if the one who 
makes it is himself credible. Grant the infallibility or 
inspiration of a certain document, and any other docu- 
ment which is therein claimed to be infallible immedi- 
ately becomes so. But a piece of writing which is hu- 
man or fallible cannot confer greater authority than it 
possesses itself. 

Let us continue our examination. Has it occurred 
to the reader how strange, yet ridiculous it is, on this 
theory, to have four accounts of the life of Christ, 
where one would have sufficed? How odd for the 
Holy Spirit thus to go over the same ground again 
and again, and repeat the same events in words that 
are almost identical! On the theory of divine inspira- 
tion such a procedure is baffling. But on the theory 
of human authorship it is comprehensible. We might 
imagine, for example, that there were various accounts 
of the life of Christ; (and we know that there were 
more than the four at present included in the Bible) ; 
then, when it came to choosing the one which was 


SEE e ik O15) © Be @ rk Toa PAINE Ving 6 


authentic, it was found that there wete several of such 
equal value that a choice was impossible, and they 
were all included. ) 

Again, think of the epistles of Paul, with their re- 
iteration of personal details. Is it likely that the Holy 
Spirit stood behind Paul, and dictated all these intimate 
greetings? And is it credible that this same Spirit put 
together such a chaotic presentation of facts as the 
book of Jeremiah? A poor commentary, indeed, on 
the literary ability of the Lord! 

But there is one book which really gives us a clew 
as to its method of composition. It is the gospel ac- 
cording to Luke, which opens with the following words: 
“Forasmuch as many have taken in hand to draw up 
a narrative concerning those matters which have been 
fulfilled among us, even as they delivered them unto 
us, who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and 
ministers of the word, it seemed good to me also, hav- 
ing traced the course of all things accurately from the 
first, to write unto thee in order, most excellent The- 
ophilus; that thou mightest know the certainty con- 
cerning the things wherein thou wast instructed.” 

Four things are brought to light by these words. 
In the first place, we learn that the occurrences which 
form the subject-matter of the gospel were commu- 
nicated orally (7. e., through tradition) by those who 
had been eyewitnesses. Secondly, there were many 
who committed the things so communicated to writ- 
ing, and of these the author of Luke was one. What 
were his motives in doing so? “It seemed good” to 
him, in order that Theophilus might know the cer- 
tainty concerning the things wherein he was instructed. 


158 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


(How different from the divine prompting which we 
might expect!) And what was his method of gather- 
ing the facts about which he was writing? He “traced 
the course of all things accurately from the first.” 
Evidently a thoroughly human procedure, in every 
particular, without the least evidence of supernatural 
prompting or help. Especially significant is the fol- 
lowing juxtaposition of words: “Forasmuch as many 
have taken in hand to draw up a narrative... it 
seemed good to me also” todo so. With this statement 
the writer puts himself into a class with the “many.” 
But “many” includes a considerable number,—certainly 
more than three. According to the canon, however, 
there are only three other gospels which are inspired. 
So that there must have been some among the ‘“‘many”’ 
writers who were uninspired, and if the writer puts 
himself into their class, he also may be considered un- 
inspired. But if we conclude that there were 
more than three inspired individuals constituting the 
“many, we must likewise conclude that the Lord, 
having first illuminated the additional ones, later al- 
lowed their works to be lost,—a bizarre hypothesis. 
All in all, we cannot avoid the conclusion that the gos- 
pel of Luke arose in a normally human way. And 
since the Acts were written by the same person, we 
may attribute a similar origin to them. 

Delightfully human is the following passage: “‘Ac- 
count that the longsuffering of our Lord is salvation; 
even as our beloved brother Paul . . . wrote unto you; 
as also in all his epistles ... wherein are some 
things hard to be understood.” IL Pet. it, 15, 
16. Now, either the things mentioned are hard to 


THE ERRORS OF CHRISTIANITY | 159 


be understood absolutely, in which case the Lord 
(writing through Peter) would have difficulty in under- 
standing his own words (writing through Paul); or 
they are hard to be understood only by mankind, though 
clear to the Lord. In this case, however, we find our- 
selves in the following dilemma: either the Lord could 
not express himself clearly, or else he did not wish to. 
The former supposition is hardly tenable, as many of 
the Lord’s creatures (e. g., Voltaire, Renan, Mill) have 
succeeded in accomplishing this not over-difficult task. 
But the other supposition is almost equally out of the 
question. For the purpose of the epistles, one would 
think, was to bring home the truths which animated 
their author. To do this, however, the author would 
hardly choose the method of intentional obscurity. 
Further light is shed on the subject under considera- 
tion by the history of the Biblical writings. We are 
so accustomed to speak of ‘“‘The Bible,”—so used to 
seeing the sections known as ‘‘Genesis,” ‘Exodus’ 
and the like under a single cover,—that we are prone 
to imagine it must always have been thus, the “‘chap- 
ters” hanging together like those of a novel or the- 
oretical treatise. They were the necessary elements of 
a single indivisible whole. History, however, has a 
different story to tell. The writings which constitute 
the Bible were composed at widely different intervals. 
And they were not stamped from the first and in- 
dubitably as components of a single work, but were 
gradually picked out from many similar writings. 
Notably it was the Synods at the close of the fourth 
century which gave the final stamp of approval to the 
form of the New Testament as we know it. Previous 


160 Ch ELT IR Teves Ge ASE VL Nise og ieee 


to this time there were many differences of opinion as 
to the exact list of books which should be considered 
authentic. Some authorities favored certain books 
which were later omitted, others rejected books which 
were later included. So that, if we are to regard 
the New Testament as containing nothing but in- 
spired truth, we. must attribute inspiration and in- 
fallibility likewise to the men who pieced it together. 
A fantastic supposition, and one that is totally unac- 
ceptable especially by Protestants, who do not admit 
human authority alongside of the Bible. But even if 
we are to adopt this position, it will not remove our 
difficulties. For if the Holy Spirit guided mankind 
toward the choice of what was genuine, it guided Cath- 
olics and Protestants differently. There are certain 
writings in the Old Testament, known as the Apocry- 
pha, which are accepted by the former, while they are 
rejected by the latter. So that we not only have no 
evidence as to the inspiration of the Biblical writings, 
but we do not even know what those writings really 
are. And this uncertainty with reference to the 
Apocrypha throws its shadow likewise over the books 
about which there is less dispute. How can we be 
sure, indeed, that nothing spurious has crept into these, 
when we find this fundamental disagreement regard- 
ing so substantial a portion of the Old Testament? 

In addition to all these positive evidences of the 
human origin of Holy Writ, we have the negative in- 
dication afforded by the fact that none of the writers, 
with the exceptions noted above, have spoken of any 
supernatural help in the preparation of their work. 
We find great eagerness to tell of miraculous occur- 


THE ERRORS OF CHRISTIANITY 161 


rences in general, but hardly a word concerning any 
miracle by which the composition of the works in ques- 
tion was effected. The voice of the Lord is often 
heard in thunder and dreams, but seldom dictates a 
word of Holy Writ. Does any one suppose for a mo- 
ment that if there had been anything in the slightest 
degree unusual in the preparation of these books, the 
same would not have been heralded with loud voice 
as the direct work of the Lord? The fact, therefore, 
that nothing is proclaimed is the strongest possible 
proof that there was, in fact, nothing to proclaim. 

So then, having shown that there is no definite and 
unmistakable claim in the Bible itself, as to its in- 
spiration from above, and that there are many cir- 
cumstances which speak against such inspiration, we 
shall add a few considerations which make the supposi- 
tion in question well-nigh impossible. These are based 
on the contradictions in the Bible. If a work of litera- 
ture purports to have been divinely inspired, we can rea- 
sonably expect it to tell us the truth and not contradict 
itself perpetually. God speaking through Peter will 
surely not say something different from God speaking 
through Paul. But contradictions abound from be- 
ginning to end. It would take us too long to elucidate 
this in detail, and so a few examples must suffice. 
In Mark we have Peter denying the Lord three times 
before the cock crows twice, in Matthew and Luke he 
does so before the cock crows once. In Mark Jesus 
tells his disciples to “take nothing for their journey, 
save a staff only; no bread, no wallet, no money”; 
in Luke, on the contrary, he adjures them to take 


1 Mark VI. 8. 


162 VATR ID YOG RT AGH EEN Kites 


nothing at all, “neither staff, nor wallet, nor bread, nor 
money.” + 

True, these are mere details; a circumstance, how- 
ever, which does not affect the essence of the matter. 
The Creator can reasonably be expected to know about 
details as well as essentials. And we can reasonably 
expect him to remember, in dictating to his stenog- 
raphers, and not give us different accounts of the same 
events. 

But there are contradictions likewise in regard to es- 
sentials. Witness the radically different accounts of 
Creation, in the first and second chapters of Genesis; ? 
and the genealogies of Christ in Matthew and Luke, 
in which not only the names of Christ’s ancestors but 
likewise the numbers of the generations disagree. (In 
Matthew there are twenty-eight generations between 
David and Christ, in Luke there are forty-three.) 
Then again, could there be anything more vitally im- 
portant in Holy Writ than to give us information re- 
garding the method of obtaining salvation? And 
would it not seem as if on this point, at least, the Holy 
Ghost would take pains to be explicit and clear? Yet 
in Mark salvation is made to depend on baptism and 
faith—“He that believeth and is baptized shall be 
saved; but he that disbelieveth shall be condemned” * 
—while in Matthew it is made to depend entirely on 
works—“T was hungry, and ye gave me to eat; I was 


1 Luke IX. 3. 

2Tt is but fair to say that in the German translation by Luther 
the two accounts seem to show no marked contradiction; but in 
the American Standard Version the discrepancy is pronounced. 

3 Mark XVI. 16. 


THE ERRORS OF CHRISTIANITY 163 


thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was a stranger, and 
ye took me in; naked, and ye clothed me; I was sick, 
and ye visited me; I was in prison, and ye came unto 
me.” ! Surely a vital contradiction. And if the two 
passages are nevertheless held to be the work of one 
Spirit, the purpose of that Spirit, so far as we can 
see, was not to enlighten but rather mystify mankind. 

We shall now pass to a more general examination of 
the Book, in order to form a direct judgment of its 
truth and value. There can be no doubt as to our 
verdict. The Biblical account is so full of absurd- 
ities and so antagonistic to truths which have been 
established by science, that it is out of the question, 
even for a moment, to consider it as a serious account 
of reality. 

Do we really believe that Eve was made from 
Adam’s rib? Do we believe that a woman was turned 
into a pillar of salt? Or that an ass spoke, or a man 
was carried for days in a whale’s belly and then spat 
forth again alive? What should we say if a person 
were to tell us that he could change water into wine, 
or feed five thousand people with two fishes and five 
loaves of bread? We smile when we read about Ju- 
piter begetting children with the daughters of men, but 
gravely proclaim that the Holy Spirit entered the Vir- 
gin Mary and brought forth the Son of God! We 
ridicule the materialization stories of modern spirit- 
ualists, but doubt not that Jesus arose from the dead 
and bodily flew toward heaven! The identical things 
that we reject elsewhere, we accept without a murmur 


1 Matt. XXV. 35, 30. 


164 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


when they are vouched for by a man with a black 
coat buttoned up to his chin. 

Nor is it necessary to go into lengthy disquisitions 
on the philosophy of miracles, and talk learnedly on 
hidden laws of nature and the wonder and mystery of 
the most ordinary happenings. If a thing is to be 
referred to a hidden law of nature, it ceases to be a 
miracle in the proper sense of the word, and merely 
bespeaks greater knowledge on the part of him who 
performs it, but not supernatural power. The essence 
of a miracle lies in the fact that it runs counter to the | 
laws of nature, and thus furnishes evidence of a power 
which is superior to those laws. All that is required 
in considering these things is common sense. It is 
common sense which makes us doubt the stories of the 
Indian fakirs and brush aside the oracles of Delphi; 
common sense, likewise, which leads the Protestants 
among us to reject the miracles attributed to Catholic 
saints. Why not apply the same faculty when we are 
told that human beings once attained the age of nine 
hundred years, or that the sun stood still for an entire 
day? It is the reliance on hearsay and tradition, men- 
tioned above, which fetters us in dealing with the ab- 
surdities of our own religion, and causes us to accept 
so much that we should otherwise deny. Once realize 
how irrational and unreliable that authority is, and 
our fetters drop away: we are able then to see things 
in their true light, and escape from the unworthy posi- 
tion of accepting myths for reality. 

We pass to the collisions with the established facts 
of science. These are absolutely fatal to the claim of 
the book as a record of truth. To begin with the 


THE ERRORS OF CHRISTIANITY © 16s 


story of creation, we have the earth and celestial lumi- 
naries created in six days,—an absurdity when viewed 
in connection with the revelations of geology. True, 
we are told in rebuttal that the days here referred to 
are not to be construed as periods of twenty-four 
hours, but of thousands or millions of years. A pe- 
culiar hypothesis, in view of the repeated declaration 
that “there was evening and there was morning, one 
day, (a second day, etc.)”; peculiar, likewise, when we 
remember that the Sabbath—a day of twenty-four 
hours—was set aside by the Jews as a period of rest, 
in commemoration of the day on which the Lord rested. 
If the days of creation are to be conceived in this 
lengthened form, then the passage from Ex. xx. 9-11, 
—“Six days shalt thou labor, and do all thy work 
. . . for in six days Jehovah made heaven and earth,” 
—contains two radically different meanings of the same 
word. Surely a very unusual proceeding, to say the 
least, for a writer thus to pass from one meaning of 
a word to another, without the least hint of the 
transition. | 

But even if we accept this explanation, we are not 
helped thereby, and new difficulties are added to the 
old. For example, there is the fact that vegetation 
was created on the third day, while the sun did not 
appear until the fourth. That is, trees and herbs— 
which thrive ‘only with the help of sunlight—existed 
for millions of years without that help. To be sure, 
this difficulty might not have troubled the old chron- 
icler, for according to him light was made and “divided 
from darkness” before the existence of the sun and 
stars! A naive conception! Equally out of harmony 


166 PHIRTY GREAT SEEN hs 


with the facts of science is the order in which living 
beings are brought forth. Not only is it untrue, ac- 
cording to geology, that there was a separate period for 
every kind of life—one for plants, one for birds and 
fishes, and another for land animals—but the sequence 
in which these are introduced is at variance with that 
established by paleontology. Notably, birds did not 
come before land animals, as Scripture would have it, 
and some fishes, e. g., whales, came after the same. 

The Copernican theory of the universe, while not 
explicitly contradicted by Genesis, is certainly denied 
by implication. The whole account of creation pro- 
ceeds on the supposition that the earth is the primary 
body, while the sun and stars are secondary. In the 
first place, we have the earth existing before the sun, 
—an impossible situation under any conception which 
is based on the Copernican theory, even without the 
conclusions of the nebular hypothesis. The secondary 
position given the stars is indicated by the words: 
“he made the stars also.’ And finally we are told 
that God set the heavenly bodies in the firmament “‘to 
give light upon the earth, and to rule over the day and 
over the night.’ That is, London and Paris were 
created for the sake of some little ant-hill far off in 
Australia! 

Man has existed, according to the Holy Scriptures, 
only about 6000 years. This, too, is at variance with 
the facts of science, as is the fantastic supposition that 
the earth was covered with a deluge and all species 
of terrestrial life were preserved in a boat! Accord- 
ing to the Bible Adam was the first man and he was 
created by a divine flat; according to evolution there 


THE ERRORS OF CHRISTIANITY 5167 


was no Adam at all, and man developed by gradual 
stages from the lower animals. 

These are a few of the scientific impossibilities which 
swarm in the Book. The attempt has been made to 
weaken their force by asserting that the first part of 
Genesis is not to be taken literally, but mythologically. 
A flimsy device; for if a whole section of Holy Writ 
may thus be discredited, what assurance have we that 
the other sections are not similarly unreliable? Then, 
too, the occurrences here related are referred to as 
facts in later sections of the Book, so that the in- 
fection of unreliability spreads likewise to them. Nor 
is the weakness of these first chapters confined to the 
cosmological happenings which they describe,—hap- 
penings which might be asserted to have no essential 
bearing on the Bible’s spiritual message,—but extends 
into the very vitals of the religion. Christian theol- — 
ogy depends for its very life on the conception of the 
fallof man. Man was created perfect; but he fell, and 
in so doing exposed the whole race to perdition. And 
to save the race, Christ came and made his sacrifice. 
“For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be 
made alive.”’ I Cor. xv. 22. In opposition to this view, 
evolution teaches that there was no fall whatever. 
Instead of dropping from a higher estate, man has ever 
been climbing upward from a lower one. Hence the 
whole meaning and purpose of Christ’s advent, as set 
forth in the religion to which he gave his name, 1s 

without foundation and collapses. 
Seeing themselves thus hedged in by the inexorable 
reasonings of science, Christian apologists have again 
modified their defense, and while admitting errors in 


168 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


regard to questions of fact, have maintained the 
uniqueness and truth of the Holy Book with reference 
to its ethical and religious teachings. But once more 
their stand is untenable. How draw a line of de- 
marcation between that which is ethical and scientific? 
The two are so constantly intermingled in the Scrip- 
tures that the endeavor to separate them would result 
in a veritable crazy quilt of truth and error. Even the 
same passages may be ethical as well as scientific in 
content, and must accordingly be considered as in- 
spired in one respect, but not in another.! Again, 
what guarantee have we that a book which is full of 
flaws scientifically will not likewise be vulnerable 
ethically? If God is the author of this book, he ought 
to be as well informed concerning the cosmological 
matters which it contains as concerning the religious. 
But if human beings were the authors, it does not 
seem likely that they will be more infallible with ref- 
erence to the principles of morality than with refer- 
ence to those of mechanics. The main support of this 
position, we suspect, rests in the fact that ethical state- 
ments are not so easily refuted as physical. But as a 
matter of fact, there are many doctrines taught in the 


1 Such is the injunction referred to later in the text, against 
the union of a man with his brother’s wife. Primarily this 
is an ethical injunction, directed against incest. But the question 
whether the union in question is really harmful and incestuous, 
is scientific. It is a question of fact and experience, and as 
such is inextricably bound up with the ethical aspect of the 
matter. A union which tends to bring about degeneration in 
the offspring is doubtless reprehensible; but only observation 
and science can tell us which unions are dangerous in this sense. 
Insufficient knowledge regarding the matter led to prohibitions,— 
like that mentioned,—which are wholly uncalled for, while 
precarious relations, e.g., between cousins, were tolerated. 


THE ERRORS OF CHRISTIANITY 169 


Book, with reference to conduct and morality, which 
the enlightened judgment of today emphatically re- 
jects. Polygamy and incest are tacitly sanctioned 
in the Old Testament, through their uncensured at- 
tribution to righteous individuals. And when incest 
is later condemned, we find the law flying to the other 
extreme, and forbidding relationships (e. g., between a 
man and his brother’s wife), which are perfectly harm- 
less. Human sacrifice is offered in the case of 
Jephthah, and it is notorious how devilishly cruel was 
the warfare of the Jews, under the guidance of their 
Lord. 

It may be interposed, to be sure, that these acts, 
while obnoxious to our moral sense today, were not so 
objectionable at the time they were committed, but in 
harmony with the standards of the age. We do not 
presume to judge as to the reasonableness of this con- 
tention. But once adopt the principle, and it threatens 
to sap all the ethical value out of the Scriptures. 
Without exception, these writings were composed ages 
ago, and we can never be sure, accordingly, whether 
the moral injunctions which they contain were meant 
only for the people to whom they were addressed, or 
are still supposed to be valid today. But of what use 
is moral guidance if it is not applicable to the con- 
ditions wherein we live? We are not interested in 
the Bible as a source of antiquarian information, but 
need it as a help in our actual perplexities. Even the 
precepts of the Saviour, more universally revered than 
the rules of the Old Testament, are subject to the same 
uncertainty of meaning. Such are the admonitions to 
love our enemies and turn the other cheek. How- 


170 DHIRVY. GREAT THINKERS 


ever glibly our tongues may profess assent to these 
things, our actions belie them, and prove that we re- 
pose no confidence whatever in the words of the Mas- 
ter, But if such a cornerstone of Christian teaching 
is so universally disregarded, even by those who pro- 
claim it as a cornerstone, how can we uphold the ethical 
infallibility of the Bible any more than the scientific ? 

Our conclusion must therefore be, that the Bible is 
a thoroughly human book. The religion which is built 
on it as a foundation has no claims to supernatural 
authority, either in regard to its physical, historical or 
religious teachings. Undoubtedly there is much that 
is good and true in these teachings. And we are at 
liberty to accept this, and adjure others to follow our 
example. But they are under no obligation to obey 
our exhortations, as we have no authority to make 
them. It is all a matter of inclination and choice. 
Perhaps, as Matthew Arnold has insisted, the Bible is 
superior to all other religions in the quality of its 
ethical teaching; and perhaps, as Schopenhauer has 
declared, what is true in it is also to be found in Bud- 
dhism and Brahmanism. But however we may judge 
of the book and the creed which is reared on it, there 
is no difference in kind between it and other systems 
of belief: Christianity is at most a better guide to 
right living than its sister-creeds, but it is not a vehicle 
of divine truth in any special and unique sense. It 
is a product of human thought, and is to be judged by 
the same standards and tests which we apply to other 
products of human thought. 


THE EMPIRICAL ARGUMENT FOR 
GHRISTIANITY 





THE EMPIRICAL ARGUMENT FOR 
CHRIS TUN T EY: 


HE truth of Christianity, we hear it said, is 
established by its results. Christianity has 
produced the noblest fruits of culture. Mo- 
hammedanism means polygamy; Buddhism goes with 
a stagnant civilization; the Christian religion alone 
spells progress and humanity. 

It would be difficult to find an argument more re- 
plete with fallacies. To begin with, what is the war- 
rant for asserting that a belief which produces good 
results must also be true? So far as the limited ex- 
perience of individuals goes, such a thesis is certainly 
not borne out by the facts. It might be most advan- 
tageous for a mother to believe that her child had not 
died, but the beneficent effect does not alter the sad 
circumstance of its death. Whether the situation is 
different when we substitute humanity and its beliefs 
for the mother, is a hypothesis which has not been 
proven. 

But even though we pass by this aspect of the mat- 
ter, and accept the initial presupposition on which the 
argument is based, we are immediately met with a fal- 
lacy which is fatal. It is the fallacy technically des- 
ignated as post hoc ergo propter hoc—if a thing fol- 
lows another it is caused by that other. It is a fallacy 
familiar in the controversies which formerly raged 

173 


174 THIRTY GREAT DEEN Kis 


about the tariff question. America with its protective 
system, it was argued, is wealthy and pays high wages; 
England with free trade is poverty stricken and pays 
scant wages: hence a protective tariff is favorable to 
wealth and high wages. Needless to point out that 
the prosperity of our country does not flow from legal 
enactments, but depends on its boundless natural re- 
sources. As well might one argue that macaroni were 
conducive to noble painting, or beer to high philo- 
sophical thinking; for the Italians are fond of the 
vermiform article of diet, while the countrymen of 
Kant and Hegel are addicted to the amber beverage. 

Approaching the subject more closely, we find that 
modern European civilization is the product of four 
factors :— 

I. Christianity ; 

2. The Teutonic Spirit; 

3. Greco-Roman Influence, through 

a. the medium of ancient Rome; 
b. the Renaissance ; 

4. Modern Free Thought. 

Evidently it is premature to ascribe to one of these 
factors what was produced by the codperation of all 
four. Furthermore, historical analysis proves fatal 
to the exalted claims of Christianity. If we would 
look for the peculiar results of this religion we must _ 
turn to the Middle Ages. To be sure, the influence 
of the Germanic spirit and of ancient civilization was 
not absent; but Christianity may be considered to have 
been paramount. What do we find? The Middle 
Ages gave us a devout religious spirit; they gave us 
charity and chivalry, and reared aloft the magnificent 


Pot ARGUMENT FOR CHRISTIANITY: 1.175 


cathedrals of Gothicism: but they also gave us reli- 
gious intolerance; they fostered narrowness of mind, 
scientific ignorance, torture, filth, and disease. The 
general estimate of this period is significantly summed 
up in the designation: The Dark Ages. 

With the Renaissance light began to dawn. In- 
ventions aroused the world, imagination peered beyond 
the seas, science blossomed, art produced masterpieces, 
life was enriched in every direction. The movement 
was continued under the dominion of modern free 
thought. Opposed to the Dark Ages of medizval 
Christianity, we now have the atheistic century of en- 
lightenment. The individual begins to assert himself, 
tyranny and despotism say their prayers. Attention, 
diverted from the hopes and fears of an after life, 
devotes itself to the amelioration of present condi- 
tions. And the movement is not independent of the 
change in thought, but actually seems to rest upon it. 
The very leaders among men, those from whom the 
betterment flows, are the ones who renounce allegiance 
to the old faiths. Indeed, it is perhaps not exaggerated 
to say that scarcely one out of ten among the great 
thinkers of modern times has remained faithful to tra- 
ditional orthodoxy. 

The superior civilization of the Occident is thus 
by no means to be ascribed to Christianity alone. But 
is it really a superior civilization? Doubts arise with 
the very putting of the question. Were the Greeks 
our inferiors in culture? Have we surpassed them in 
harmony of thought and emotion? Their excellence, 
to be sure, depended on the slavery of countless num- 
bers; but if this involved a “quantitative” deficiency, 


170 PHIRTYOGREAT  TELUN OWES 


it is questionable whether we are “qualitatively” their 
equals. 

And how about the Jews? If there is one race 
which conveys the impression of miraculous guidance 
and divinely fore-ordained destiny, it is that of the 
handful of people from Palestine. Beset with enemies 
and dangers on every hand, hounded by those who 
merely saw in them the executioners of the Son of God, 
persecuted by fire and sword, they have nevertheless 
cut their way through the ages, until at present they 
stand facing the future on a par with every other na- 
tion, their compeers in every branch of endeavor. In 
philosophy they have given us Spinoza, in poetry 
Heine, in diplomacy they boast of Disraeli, in music 
of Mendelssohn; while in finance they are the leaders 
of mankind, proprietors of half the world, the fear 
and menace of all plodding Gentiles. Are we justified, 
however, in concluding herefrom that the Jewish re- 
ligion is the veritable depositary of Divine truth? 

Then there are the Japanese. Our superiors from 
the start in certain respects, they have shown a mar- 
vellous adaptability in appropriating the results of 
western civilization ; they have exhibited a keenness and 
perseverance that are astonishing and that bid fair to 
land them among the foremost nations of tomorrow. 
To be sure, what they are borrowing comes from Chris- 
tian hands; but they are bringing to it a native ca- 
pacity which is equally important. The ignition of 
the match does not depend solely on the prepared sur- 
face against which it is rubbed, but likewise on the in- 
gredients and properties of its tip. The Christian 
foundation, too, was ignited by contact with ancient 


THE ARGUMENT FOR CHRISTIANITY 177 


ideas, yet a Christian would be loath to attribute all the 
results of modern civilization to Pagan sources. 

Of course, Japan as yet is largely a promise: its 
complete development seems to lie in the future. But 
this brings us to the heart of the matter. The argu- 
ment which we are opposing is based on a narrow, 
momentary view of history. Grant that modern 
Christian civilization represents the acme of what has 
hitherto been achieved, grant that it outstrips the re- 
sults of Greece, Japan, and the Jews,—does this prove 
that the present condition will prevail for all times, 
and that other periods and factors may not produce 
still finer results? The same reasoning three thou- 
sand years ago would have led to the conclusion that 
the Egyptian religion was the sole depositary of truth. 
Six centuries later truth would have migrated to Mt. 
Olympus; and later still, when Rome was acknowl- 
edged the ruler of land and sea, it would have estab- 
lished itself among the deities which were worshipped 
on the banks of the Tiber. Did the prosperity of the 
Mussulmans, during the eighth century of our era, 
justify an unswerving, unconditional belief in the 
Koran? Did the supremacy of Spain and the House 
of Hapsburg prove Catholicism to be right; and was 
this conviction shattered when Protestant nations be- 
gan to take the lead? At present western Christianity 
seems to be materially triumphant: but will it always 
remain so? May not the world witness a shifting to 
Slavic, Greek church dominion; may not the “yellow 
peril” become a reality, ingulfing us in Buddhistic 
supremacy; may not countless newer and freer faiths 
follow in our wake, guiding humanity toward higher 


178 POPE R TY; GARCEUA dE INS ts 


achievements? We are merely inhabiting a narrow 
historical belt : not until the last trump has been played, 
not until every precinct has cast its vote and the com- 
plete returns are in, can we really determine which 
faith has been most efficacious in successfully direct- 
ing the efforts of man. 


WHO ARE THE CHILDREN OF GOD? 





WHO ARE THE CHILDREN OF GOD? 


r “HE sharp line of demarcation which was 
formerly drawn between believers and non- 
“believers has been growing dim and vague; 
people are becoming more tolerant in religious matters 
and are beginning to realize the arbitrary nature of 
many of the older judgments. The Mussulman and 
Buddhist are no longer considered outside the pale of 
genuine worth, and even the confessed atheist is oc- 
casionally awarded childhood in the kingdom of God. 
This change is wholesome and leads us to anticipate 
an entire revolution in the estimate of man’s worth. 
The distinction between good and bad, religious and 
irreligious persons must certainly be based on more es- 
sential factors than mere words or intellectual insights. 
Doctrinal beliefs, in the ordinary acceptation of the 
term, have but little to do with a man’s essential posi- 
tion toward the Infinite, and veritable religion may be 
shared by people with the most divergent conceptions 
of life. Let us attempt a proof. It would be admit- 
ted—yes, stoutly maintained—by most religious peo- 
ple that God constantly intervenes in human life. This 
is an article of faith which belongs to the very essence 
of religion, characterizing the crudest savage super- 
stition as well as the highest conceptions of Christian- 
ity. Not only in the days of the old Israelites did God 


commune with his people, his influence is said to be 
181 


182 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


exerted even now,—from day to day, from hour to 
hour. As to the exact nature of the communion, to 
be sure, there is diversity of opinion. The evidences 
of Divine influence are by no means clear and incon- 
trovertible; they are so indefinite, in fact, as to leave 
ample room for skepticism on the part of unbelievers 
and to subject the champions of intervention to con- 
stant taunts and jeers for their credulity. The days 
are gone by when the Creator conversed face to face 
with his people, and the Divine influence must be sought 
in more subtle and elusive regions. Today we look 
to the moral law, the admonitions of conscience, deep 
intuitions of truth, visions of beauty, ideals of con- 
duct, upwellings of strength, and the like, as the more 
especial manifestations of the Godhead, the point of 
contact between the human and the Divine. Whatever 
the individual differences of opinion as to the exact 
nature of the contact may be, it is agreed that in some 
such ways the Infinite comes into touch with man, and 
that in these aspects of life man communes more closely 
with the overarching spiritual world. 

These aspects, then, may be regarded as the hither 
side of the Deity,—his manifestations in the realm of 
human existence, his earthly and finite appearance. 
Whatever God may be over and above this, within 
the realm of experience he comes to view as the moral 
law, beauty, aspiration, subconscious prompting, and so 
forth. His transmundane attributes may be infinite 
in number, and may surpass our most exalted ideas 
concerning them. With these, however, we have noth- 
ing to do: we are confined to the manifestations of the 


WHO ARE THE CHILDREN OF GOD?. 183 


Divine energy which come within our ken, and for us 
the essence of the Godhead is herewith exhausted. 

An evident corollary of this proposition is the con- 
clusion that obedience and disobedience to God depend 
upon our attitude toward these His earthly manifesta- 
tions. They are the veritable believers who listen to 
the voice of God as it is embodied in the promptings 
of duty, the leadings of the ideal, the whisperings of 
the inner genius, and those other aspects of experience 
through which the Eternal speaks to humanity. It 
matters little whether or not they are consciously aware 
that it is the Godhead with whom they are dealing: 
the important thing is the adaptation and obedience. 
If it pleases God to disguise himself as beauty and 
morality, he will hold us accountable only for our at- 
titude toward these latter, without demanding a knowl- 
edge of his identity. Like Philemon and Baucis, we 
shall be rewarded for the direct value of our actions, 
even though we fail to recognize the hidden divinity 
with which we are dealing. 

What though the atheist deny the reality of God? 
If he adopt a worthy attitude toward the manifesta- 
tions of God, he is a worthy member of the Divine 
congregation. What though he confine his devotion 
to duty, truth, and the ideal? If he be faithful in his 
cult, he will truly have served the Eternal. The po- 
tentate sends forth his legates to do his bidding and 
execute his laws; and it matters little whether a sub- 
ject is aware of the exact relation between the lieuten- 
ant and the ruler, if only he obey the commands. We 
_also are the subjects of a mighty potentate, and duty, 


184 AD ELUR TY GRAS es TRET DINE Dots 


truth, beauty, the Ideal, are the legates that are sent 
out for our guidance. Some of us recognize the vicari- 
ous nature of these agents, others regard them as the 
final sources of authority. But whatever may be our 
mental attitude, we must adapt ourselves to their com- 
mands. In the extent of our adaptation lies our kin- 
ship with the Divine, not in the intellectual recogni- 
tion of a relation. Those, indeed, are the true chil- 
dren of God’ who do his will, not those who merely 
recognize that it is his will. 

1It might be asserted that prayer formed a unique avenue 
of approach to the Divinity, which was denied to unbelievers. 
Even so, this would only modify, not annul our conclusions. 
For the other media of approach would still be there, in 
addition. Besides, the objection would have force only against 
those who do not pray at all. For we can hardly believe that 
the efficacy of prayer is confined to any religion or creed. The 
Buddhist who addresses his deity ought to be as close to the 
Godhead as the Christian. Hence prayer would not form a 


special bond of union for the Christian, but would be avail- 
able to the adherents of other faiths as well. 


ite GE NESTS One hATSD rH 





THE GENESIS OF FAITH 


we find but few attempts at a thorough psycho- 

logical explanation of the genesis and development 
of faith. So-called proofs of God and immortality 
abound, to be sure, but they are not the commonest or 
even the best foundations for religious conviction. 
Their efficacy is frequently confined to the person of the 
promulgator. And even where they seem to gener- 
ate belief, the real agents may lie deeper, hidden in the 
recesses of the heart. Indeed, the deepest faith prob- 
ably does not support itself with the syllogistic 
crutches, but is borne aloft by the wings of feeling 
and intuition. Numberless persons can bear witness 
to a gradual and mysterious growth of belief, which 
ends in convictions as deep as those effected by the 
most rigorous mathematical demonstrations. 

Numberless persons, indeed, yet not all. Many 

would be willing to foster such beliefs, but are pre- 
vented through logical obstacles. They may admit 
that they, like other human beings, live and act largely 
by faith, that they are surrounded by it as by the air 
they breathe, that their most important actions are 
based on it, and that it would be folly to be guided 
solely by the mandates of reason. Yet they insist 
that faith in one thing does not necessarily demand, 


or even justify, faith in another. If one believes in. 
187 


I: looking over the mass of religious literature, 


188 WHT YortG RB ACD sh) IN KOR ins 


a possible unification of knowledge, one need not for 
that reason believe in an existence after death. Trust 
in the future advancement of human society does not 
imply assurance of the reality of sirens and sphinxes. 
“Faith,” they say, “may be a valid ground for assur- 
ance, but what we shall have faith in is by no means 
settled by this general statement. In addition to the 
truth of the general statement, we need an individual 
impulsion toward faith in a certain thing. Other peo- 
ple may have revelations in regard to divine matters; 
but such revelations possess no claim on us, and before 
we too go through similar experiences, we shall persist 
in the denial of that which they affirm.” 

In order to dispel the mystery which for such per- 
sons must surround this subject, and possibly to help 
assurance in their souls, it might be well to throw 
some light on the elusiveness of the development of 
faith, and enumerate some of the preéxisting elements 
out of which it is born and the circumstances attend- 
ing its growth. Until this is done, religious belief 
must always have an air of strangeness and untrust- 
worthiness. It will be put into a different category 
from the convictions which they share with other peo- 
ple, and, on account of its non-universality, will ever 
be regarded with a degree of suspicion. 

It must be admitted, as indicated above, that in- 
formation concerning these points is not ample. So 
subtle a thing is religious conviction that not only is 
it impossible to transmit it bodily, like a demonstra- 
tion, from one to another, but even the nature of its 
development is difficult to note. Among the reasons 
for this lack of information we may mention the ob- 


TE EA GEN STS 1 © Ba te Get 189 


scureness attending intuitions in general, and the special 
obscureness of religious intuitions, arising from the 
elusiveness of the data on which they are based. In- 
tuitions are often the product of various factors which 
exist in the mind simultaneously, but which are too 
weak for separate notice. In my summer street-car 
rides I sometimes pass the home of a friend which is 
situated in a remote part of the city. When at some 
distance I have a vague feeling that I am soon to pass 
the place; but this feeling is not based on definite per- 
ceptions, for I should be utterly unable to describe 
any of the neighboring buildings. The various ele- 
ments which give rise to the presentiment exist in the 
mind without gaining conscious prominence. The 
general impression which they create being associated 
with my friend’s home, I naturally conclude, when | 
receive this impression, that I am near the place. 

A still more elementary example is the following: 
Having offered a dollar for ten cents’ worth of gro- 
ceries, I received the change in the form of six smaller 
coins. <A glance satisfied me that I had been given the 
right amount, although I had not had time to count 
the pieces. Each piece seemed to send a separate ray 
to the eye, which then traveled on to the brain; and the 
united effect of all these subtle sensations was a feel- 
ing of “‘all-rightness.” In this case I had caught the 
elements of the intuition on the wing; but they were 
few, and of a clear and tangible nature. Far different 
is it with the elements of religious intuitions. These 
are among our deepest and most elusive experiences. 
Indeed, it is a notable fact that some of the most im- 
portant contents of consciousness are at the same time 


190 THIRTY (GREAT CAINIGCE RS 


among the vaguest. Witness the inspiration imparted 
by thoughts of some noble man whom we wish to imi- 
tate or some admired woman whose approbation we 
covet. So indefinite are these thoughts that they 
scarcely admit of being stated: half intellectual, half 
emotional, they exist as a merest “fringe” in the mind; 
yet they have a power over us that is extremely stimu- 
lating.. Witness also the faith in the unity and order 
of the universe which animates the student, and which 
has resulted in the scientific achievements of the last 
four centuries. In spite of the importance of this 
postulate, how few there are who clearly recognize 
its existence! A man must go through all sorts of 
manceuvres with salts and acids and seeds and bones, 
must explore the heavens, excavate mountains, and 
translate half of ancient literature before he recognizes 
the powerful undercurrent which is bearing him on. 
Such are the feelings on which religious intuitions are 
based. In fact, this very belief in the order of the uni- | 
verse is capable of expanding into a belief in God and 
immortality, as will be shown later. 

Now, if intuitions in general are so subtle, even when 
they deal with simple things, how perplexing must be 
the intuitions based on elements which in themselves 
challenge observation! Yet they may not altogether 
surpass human understanding. If the intuition con- 
nected with the coins was within reach of analysis, 
there is no reason why deeper ones should be quite be- 
yond its domain. With more acuteness and patience 
of observation we might be able at least to indicate 
their rough outlines, and so suggest the desired ex- 
planation. I have myself passed from a materialistic 


THE GENESIS OF FAITH 191 


state into an attitude of faith, and have retained a few 
salient points of my experience, which will enable me 
to give a slight scheme or synopsis of the passage 
from doubt to affirmation. Though my own experi- 
ence may not apply to everybody, I am satisfied that it 
is typical of a great number of cases. 

Every one probably has a sense of the meaning and 
value of life; every one believes that it potentially con- 
tains a supreme good, and that he may attain it by the 
proper endeavors. The nature of the good of course 
varies enormously in different individuals; but its at- 
tainment would in every case produce a sense of satis- 
faction and contentment. The main thing to be ob- 
served about the feeling is, that it exists as a postulate 
or a priori conviction, independent of rational founda- 
tion, and that it exerts as powerful an influence as 
the most rigorously proved mathematical proposition. 

If, now, any line of procedure calculated to bring 
about our end proves in vain, there is, to be sure, a 
certain disappointment; this, however, does not shake 
our inborn conviction of the possibility of success. 
What we do is simply to change the direction of pur- 
suit. We give up the former aims and set up new 
ones in their stead; and if the latter prove equally. 
vain, we repeat the procedure. But evidently there 
must be a limit to this operation. The world is large 
and the ends to be striven after are many, but they 
are not infinite; and a time may arrive when the con- 
clusion is forced upon us that the desired satisfaction 
cannot be found. This will happen especially to men 
of large powers of generalization. To such it will 
not be necessary to strive after all the possible individ- 


192 THIRTY GREAT THUINRERS 


ual ends. Being disappointed in one pursuit, they im- 
mediately generalize to the genus of which it was a 
species, and thereupon give up the entire genus for- 
ever. Thus they may soon arrive at the end of all 
human endeavor, and life gains an aspect of vanity. 

But what of the deep inner conviction with which 
they started? That had its origin previous to any 
struggles and disappointments, and might well be found 
to outlive them,—as, indeed, is usually the case. When 
the sense of value is strong, it asserts itself in spite 
of all failures, and it does so by postulating another 
life for its satisfaction. Perhaps it always does so; 
perhaps the earthly ideals are not yet exhausted in the 
apparently exceptional cases, the good being sought, 
for example, in reason and the beauty of system, or in 
the delights of cynicism and opposition to all theories 
of reconciliation. But cut off all possibility of a ful- 
fillment of desires in this life, and the chances are 
that another existence will be postulated. 

Faith in immortality springing up in these ways, 1s 
thus nothing but a continuation of original convic- 
tions and impulses. Generally, of course, it is sup- 
ported by certain outside considerations,—such as the 
antecedent possibility of a deeper world, based on 
the narrowness of our experience and the unquestioned 
reality of many aspects of nature beyond those which 
are familiar; and such as the various considerations 
tending directly to prove the existence of a deity. 
These, however, are mere external aids, of service 
rather in the fixation and defense than in the attain- 
ment of belief. Substantially belief is present already 
in our sense of value. Value exists, we say: but since 


THE, GENESIS OF FAITH 193 


it does not exist in human life, it must exist in human 
life, extended. It is a sort of ground-tone or pedal 
point, which persists in spite of all external obstacles, 
and which leads to an assurance of immortality much 
as the tone C, in the third movement of Beethoven's 
fifth symphony, leads through a succession of the 
strangest harmonies into the triumphant finale. 

This, then, is one of the ways in which faith arises. 
It is the type which probably underlies the class of 
convictions arising from ideals, struggles, disappoint- 
ments, and sorrows. Another method, representing a 
sub-class of the one just described, is exemplified in 
persons of a philosophic or scientific turn of mind. 
Such a person enters the life of thought with a pro- 
found conviction of the order and plan underlying 
the universe, and with a belief in the possible com- 
prehension of the same by human consciousness (and 
possibly by his own). Here, too, the faith is wholly 
irrational; it is interfused with the blood and requires 
no syllogisms to give it credit. It inspires the young 
scientist with enthusiasm, and incites him to devote 
a lifetime to its verification. He works arduously, 
but soon finds the field expanding on every side: the 
horizon recedes as fast as it is approached, until he re- 
alizes that in the very nature of the case he will never 
be able to reach it. The universe turns out to be 
infinitely richer than he suspected, and reluctantly he 
admits man’s inability to fathom its depths. But 
the deep inner convictions with which he started still 
echo through his soul. The world is rational, and ts 
reducible to laws. Accustomed to believe in the pos- 
sible unification of knowledge, he finds it impossible to 


194 THIRTY (GREAT THINKERS 


relinquish this faith, and he postulates an enlargement 
of existence, in which the nature of the universe may 
be more intelligible. His religious belief is merely 
an extension of his scientific belief, and we have a 
case where science and religion are not opposed, but 
where the one rather prepares for and leads into the 
other. 

Presented thus in meagre outline, the genesis of 
faith appears slim enough, and it will not be surpris- 
ing 1f nobody finds ground in it for personal convic- 
tion. But the bare statement that there is value in 
life, or plan in the universe, which expresses the men- 
tal attitude of every one, is also pitiably uneloquent ; 
whereas the truth of this statement, when felt, is in- 
finitely rich and stimulating. Were we able to depict 
all the emotional stirrings which accompany the pro- 
cedure indicated,—all the struggles and hopes, dis- 
appointments and victories,—we should certainly win 
assent from many readers, carrying them along with 
us as we swung around the final curve. 

In order to give a closer idea of the nature of these 
experiences and of the peculiar intermixture of emo- 
tion and reasoning characteristic of them, I subjoin 
a fragmentary account of my own passage from doubt 
to affirmation, which I was able to retain, like a feather 
from an escaping bird, and which, transformed into 
impersonal guise, I would entitle: 


THE VALUE OF EXISTENCE 


When life is young and immediate pleasures and 
aims still glorify the horizon of the mind, the ques- 


THE GENESIS OF FAITH 195 


tion of immortality seldom surges up with any urgent 
appeal for an answer. But the years roll on and the 
mind becomes accustomed to sacrifice present enjoy- 
ment for future gain. Aims expand and ends recede; 
at times, indeed, they are projected to the very thresh- 
old of the grave. When finally realized, however, they 
are found to be divested of all their primitive charm 
and halo. Man then wonders why it was that they at- 
tracted him so powerfully. ‘What is the meaning of 
it all?” he asks, ‘“‘are all my dreams of happiness and 
betterment merely the empty products of a heated 
imagination? Am I the dupe of some dark power, 
conscious or unconscious, which amuses itself by lur- 
ing me on after unsubstantial phantoms ?” 
Materialism, indeed, would have me believe that it 
is thus. Man, it teaches, is nothing but a dusty con- 
course of atoms, governed by the same simple, me- 
chanical laws as the clod of earth on which he treads. 
He differs from it only as an elaborate scale differs 
from a shopkeeper’s balance: in complexity. Once 
master the elementary laws of material nature, and pro- 
cure instruments delicate enough to follow them in 
the workings of the brain, and the deeds of man will 
become as clear as the operation of a pulley. It will 
then be possible to reduce to mechanical formule the 
emotion of sublimity called forth by King Lear, and 
the sense of calm and holiness which takes possession 
of us when we have done our duty. Apart from their 
- immediate pleasantness and their effect on our material 
well-being, all feelings and emotions will be put on 
exactly the same level. They are the conscious con- 
comitants of physiological processes, and nothing more, 


196 THIRTY) GREAD iG EULN RRS 


They have no mysterious significance, point to no 
deeper reality. They are mere tricks of nature, whose 
blind object is the survival of the beast,—man. In 
general, consciousness is but a secondary concern, but 
the accompaniment of a certain complexity of matter 
in motion. Before this happened to exist there was 
no feeling, and after it ceases to exist there will 
again be none. All life on the globe is destined to 
vanish, and with it all ideals which have been cherished 
by humanity. Perhaps, in the millions of eras follow- 
ing this catastrophe, there will never be the least gleam 
or scintillation of thought, never the least reflection 
of the great world-process going on around us. Noth- 
ing will remain but the eternal atoms, grinding their 
eternal way through the eternal space. 

This is the desolate, God-forsaken view of the uni- 
verse which is turned out in our factories of science. 
But the trouble with this theory is similar to that 
with the children of old Saturn. Just as these latter 
were devoured by the parent who instilled life into 
them, so our theory is swallowed up and disintegrated 
by the very influences which gave birth to it. For 
observe, this doctrine which, when carried to its legit- 
imate conclusion, ends by denying all higher value 
to life; which reduces beauty to a mere chance col- 
location of matter in motion, ethical ideals to mere illu- 
sions, and consciousness in general to something sec- 
ondary and sporadic,—this doctrine itself presupposes 
the existence of ideals, of things which possess a deep 
inner worth. For what is it that drives men to investi- 
gation and the framing of hypotheses? It is Value, 
deep Value, which tacitly underlies all our thoughts 


THE GENESIS OF FAITH 197 


and actions, which is deeper even than Truth and Vir- 
tue, which gives significance to all things and contains 
all, but is contained by none. We may seek it in 
health and wealth, in happiness and fame, in knowl- 
edge, or the progress of mankind; but always it is a 
sense of worth which beckons us on, a longing for that 
which will satisfy our deeper needs and a faith in its at- 
tainability. Of what avail are the objects about which 
the scientist reasons? Mere dead apparatus, they are 
cast aside when they have served their purpose. Of 
what avail is Truth? Count the grains of sand on 
the seashore, or diagram the outlines of a boulder, and 
you will have Truth indeed; but what of it? It gives 
us no thrill of discovery, helps us not toward a name, 
produces no unification of knowledge, affords us no 
glance into the infinite: it is without Value, hence away 
with it. All the world is meaningless and insipid until 
touched by the magic wand of Value, which alone 
transforms and glorifies it. 

As life courses on, we change our HAE and esti- 
mates of worth. We fall in love, rear a family, found 
a state, strive after universal welfare. What was dear 
to us loses its flavor, and what tempted us not we 
eagerly pursue. The search for the laws of nature, 
once the central point of existence, now seems like 
the fruitless gathering of stones of similar color, like 
a vain pursuit of shadows. The political and social 
ideals which filled our youthful hearts with enthusi- 
asm, afford us no more warmth than the logs in a 
painted fireplace. And yet, though disappointment 
and disillusion follow each other in quick succession, 
we ever again dive into the whirlpool of life, search- 


198 THIRTY GREAT VHINKERS 


ing for the balm which may quiet our unappeasable 
longing. Until finally, when the bandage drops from 
our eyes, when we have made the rounds of life with- 
out finding the desired satisfaction, there is but one 
course left open to us: to leap over the confines of 
earthly existence and embrace the infinite. 

Flere we learn the secret of that elevating, sanctify- 
ing power which care and sorrow often exert over us. 
Our earthly illusions may be dispelled, to be sure, but 
they prove to be the rent curtain which hid the radiance 
of reality. The eternal striving remains,—the ever- 
lasting want, which is the light of hope, the proof of 
God, the ladder of heaven. 

Man’s life is a sublime syllogism, the steps of which 
differ infinitely, but of which the grand conclusion re- 
mains ever the same. The major premise is a vague 
but irresistible sense of the worth of all living and striv- 
ing. According to person and condition, this senti- 
ment assumes a variety of aspects. To the youth it 
is the blushing maiden who promises an infinity of 
bliss; to the hero and worker it is fame that beckons 
him on with alluring pictures; to the mother it is the 
child on which her tenderest hopes are centered; and 
to the philanthropist it is the welfare of humanity 
which arouses him to tireless activity. But one by 
one these ideals fade and disappear. The maiden loves 
another, or the wine of her affection changes into the 
vinegar of ill temper. The glory of fame bursts like 
a soap-bubble, or reveals itself in the ugly shape of 
selfishness and vanity. The child dies, dragging into 
the grave all the hopes of its mother. And the wel- 


THE GENESIS OF FAITH 199 


fare of humanity, finally, becomes an enormous, 
sphinx-like riddle: what is it? 

But amid these fluctuations there still abides that 
profound and unconquerable sense of the worth of all 
living and striving. Deeper than aught else, it sub- 
sists, even after all the fair stars of hope and promise 
have disappeared. At times it resembles some un- 
fathomable abyss of night, some enormous spiritual 
chaos, or some mighty world-force that would glory 
in the exercise of its strength, but is doomed to waste 
it upon nothingness. -It is then that all the devious 
paths of the syllogism of life converge into one bright 
focus; it is then that there rises upon the awful night 
of unsatisfied desire the glorious sun of immortality. 
Not in this world, but beyond, beneath, before, and 
above it, lie the meaning of strife and the realization of 
hope! Like a revelation does this assurance come to us. 
It need not be weighed and tested in the brazen scales 
of science, for it carries its certificate of truth on its 
own forehead. It leads to conviction, not with the 
plodding steps of the cart-horse of calculation, but with 
the unerring flight of Pegasus. And how it comforts, 
how it animates us! It insinuates itself into every 
thought and action, and casts a sweet radiance on our 
path. Like the first tinge of crimson on the early 
eastern sky, it is the harbinger of a glorious day that 
is soon to dawn. 





GROUNDS OF FAITH 


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GROUNDS OF FAITH 


MONG the opinions that we hold, but few are 
A the result of methodical demonstration. Even 

where reasoning is involved, it is usually not 
of primary importance. Our conclusion shines out 
before us; our will drives us toward it as with the 
hidden power of a propeller; and reason merely adds 
the specious strokes of the oar, which seemingly im- 
pel us onward. Yes, even when we are less biased, 
even when we feel ourselves ready to accept any con- 
clusion that is logically correct, our emotional prefer- 
ences will play a part and act as currents gently further- 
ing or steadily hemming our progress towards the 
goal. There is something to be said in favor of every 
proposition; and our desires have accommodating per- 
ceptions, ready to sift out the arguments that are agree- 
able and marvellously impervious to the others. Apart 
from the emotional element, too, our reasonings are 
often most confused. Of syllogistic clearness and 
symmetry there is little trace. The most manifold 
considerations are thrown together, if only they pos- 
sess the common feature of pointing in one direction; 
and these writhe and twist about in the greatest dis- 
_ order, like gold-fish in a basin, until finally they are 
caught up in a sudden current of emotion and landed 
in the placid pool of the conclusion. The particular 


arguments, if followed up by themselves, might be in- 
203 


204, TORT DRED Y 9 Gr Boras bees CTD NOES Es 


adequate, yet there is validity in the cry of the ensemble. 

Of this nature are the arguments that nourish my 
belief in a greater consciousness than the human— 
encircling and controlling us—and in immortality. My 
faith in these matters was semi-emotional in origin, 
and as such it would likely persist, even without the 
support of a logical foundation. Nevertheless, as time 
has passed, certain considerations of a theoretical na- 
ture have presented themselves which impart plausibil- 
ity to the views I entertain; and, such as they are, 
I shall attempt to reproduce them, though without ex- 
cessive regard for nicety of arrangement or perfect 
accuracy of reasoning. I shall offer pictures of my 
mind as it appears when directed toward the prob- 
lems in question, with the various arguments, sub- 
judgments, and undercurrents of feeling juxtaposed 
in much of their original disorder ; regarding the world 
from the ordinary point of view, but also inserting 
considerations of an idealistic nature; claiming no co- 
erciveness for any isolated line of reasoning, though 
hoping for some plausibility from their combined ef- 
bec 


Viewing the mind from the exterior, through the 
medium of the bodies which it inhabits, we perceive 
an outcrop. Here is the immeasurable universe, with 
its suns and stars, and its tiny little mite of an earth. 
Yet how majestic it is, this earth, with its Atlantics 
and Pacifics, its Amazons and Himalayas! In com- 
parison, man is a mere bird on the mountain, an 


GROUNDS OF FAITH 208 


excrescence, a parasite, a nothing. Is the fire of con- 
sciousness confined to these atoms; does the great 
cosmic process only find a reflection in this peculiar 
union of carbon and nitrogen; have the myriads of 
celestial bodies been whirling about for zons in order 
that a few dust-particles might finally be tickled? 

When I see a fire-spitting volcano, I surmise the 
presence of subterranean heat. When I regard the 
strata jutting out of a mountainside, I postulate a 
continuation beneath the surface. The oceanic isle 
is the summit of a submarine elevation, an outcrop 
of land which everywhere underlies the sea. Shall it 
be different with this outgrowth which we call mind,— 
this brilliant appearance of thought, this illuminated 
island in the dark ocean of unconsciousness ? 

Man’s body is embosomed in the elements: bloom- 
ing forth from their womb, it 1s laid back into them 
as into a sepulchre. And with his body goes the 
growth and decline of his spirit. Must I believe, how- 
ever, that the corporeal atoms have existed and shall 
continue to exist for all time, while their conscious 
glow is but a sporadic fact, but the scintillation of 
a will-o’-the-wisp? Must I accept the material law, 
ex nihilo nihil fit, while the realm of sensation wit- 
nesses creation without cause and existence without 
persistence ? 

All manifestations of energy are continuous and 
interconnected. Force produces force the wide uni- 
_ verse throughout, and will continue to do so until time 
is no more. Is consciousness alone to be without its 
kinsmen? Are there only individual stones and single 
vibrations of thought, no planetary systems or mag- 


206 THIRTY) GREAT THINKERS 


netic poles? Are there no starlike brothers of feel- 
ing, no fatherly suns of devotion? Will gravitation, 
electricity, cohesion remain, and knowledge be crushed 
out of existence by the collision of a planet? 

No, it cannot be! The conclusion is unavoidable 
that as man’s body is part of material nature, so his 
mind is part of a.greater mind. The analogy begun in 
the animal is the hint of a parallelism that extends 
deep into the realm of material being. The strata 
must dip beneath the surface; consciousness must fol- 
low the worm into the earth, must bubble along with 
the playful brook, swell with the ocean, revolve with 
the planet, and soar on to the very constellations. 

And if the mind externally resembles an outcrop, 
it isa fragment from within. It is incomplete in every 
direction, and there are currents sweeping through 
and ragged edges hanging from it on every side. We 
clutch at a few insignificant facts and strive for some 
paltry ends, but the great systems of which these are 
members remain hidden from view. Our knowledge 
is an infinitesimal fraction of the unit of complete 
knowledge, a mere promontory in the vast ocean of 
the unknown. The streams of will course through us 
without summons or sanction, and lead to actions whose 
outcome we do not know. It seems as if we were led 
along preordained paths and guided by invisible powers ; 
it seems, indeed, as if there were 


6€ 


. adivinity that shapes our ends, 
Rough-hew them how we will.” 


In the enjoyment of beauty we gain glimpses of a 
richer life, hear echoes of a far-off, happy land of 


GROUNDS OF FAITH 207 


promise. The reality of this land is also vouched for 
by our strivings after higher life and perfection, our 
“heavenly homesickness,” our beginnings without end, 
our desires without satisfaction. In spite of the aim- 
less, drifting aspect of existence, we cherish the con- 
viction of its reality, of its meaning and rational pur- 
pose. 

The inner and outer aspects of mind thus exactly 
correspond: from the exterior a recurring outcrop, 
from the interior a fragment; from without a studded 
ocean, from within a surrounded island. Viewed 
from every side, indeed, the mind suggests, not an 
entity complete in itself, but a part of a greater whole. 
Man’s consciousness, like his body, belongs to a larger 
universe ; there are solar systems of sensibility, match- 
ing the sublime constellations of material nature. 


I] 


Now let us give a turn to the mental kaleidoscope 
and introduce a more sober, logical combination of 
elements. Consciousness is attributed to human be- 
ings and animals. Some people would even go fur- 
ther, and bring the flower and leaf within the realm of 
sensation. But in general the passive life of the plant 
appears too little like their own to foster such a view. 
As for rocks and minerals, water and air—they seem 
absolutely out of question. The earth, with its oceans, 
rivers, mountains, and clouds; the solar and sidereal 
systems, with their suns and planets, their comets and 
nebulee—all are mere inert matter, except in so far as 
they may harbor organisms similar to those here. 


208 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


In opposition to this view, we must first protest 
against the assumption that consciousness can only be 
inferred where its expression resembles that of man. 
We know nothing of the inner, essential connection be- 
tween matter and mind, and lack every justification 
for assuming that sensibility cannot arise except un- 
der the conditions presented by animal tissue. It is 
doubtful whether the worm or louse, if able to philos- 
ophize, would ever come to the conclusion that man 
was a being endowed with sensibility. Indeed, it is 
unlikely that the lower animals should even be able to 
form an adequate conception of the bodies of their 
higher mates. The ant may regard the elephant as 
an amorphous, inanimate object—a mountain with de- 
structive avalanches. The rhinoceros, if it is able to 
perceive the mosquito at all, may class it as a soulless 
shred of matter. On the other hand, the cat may put 
the rubber-ball into the family of rodents. It would 
be interesting to make classifications of the animal 
kingdom as it would appear to various species; doubt- 
less it would undergo considerable modification, and 
homo sapiens might be missing in many of the sys- 
tems. 

May we too resemble the lower animals in our 
enumeration of living beings? Are we overlooking 
the sensibility connected with the flowing river and 
the coal measures, because we are unable to perceive the 
individualities to which they belong? The phenomena 
exhibited in the animal world assume degrees and 
qualities which do not surpass our powers of percep- 
tion. No animal is too large to be seen in its entirety; 
and none moves so rapidly or curiously but that its 


GRO URN Dist OE iE 209 


movements can likewise be perceived. All fall into the 
circle of perceptibility, all are subject to our mental 
control. From the position of many animals, however, 
this is not the case. The blind cave-fish, for instance, 
could never form an idea of a horse, or the oyster of 
a bird. | | 

If this is true of the lower animals, may it not also 
be true of man? What ground have we for assum- 
ing that we occupy the top notch, and that there are 
no manifestations of life transcending our own men- 
tal control? May not the forces of heat, light, elec- 
tricity, and sound be the bearers of sensibility in 
higher organisms, similar to the nerves that permeate 
our own bodies? May not the solid universe be an 
unimportant outgrowth of some vaster power, like 
the hair that covers our limbs? In view of the 1m- 
mense differences characterizing the material aspect 
of animals, differences so great as in some cases to 
denote inability of mutual perception, we are by no 
means justified in maintaining that consciousness can 
only exist with manifestations exhibiting a pronounced 
similarity to those of human beings or animals. 

But even if we were to accept this position, assum- 
ing that sensibility must be accompanied by a resem- 
blance to the human body, we should only require a 
resemblance in essentials. Nobody would hold that 
ten fingers, four limbs, a soft skin, or a spinal col- 
umn were necessary, for life exists without these con- 
comitants. What, then, are the essentials? We can 
arrive at an answer by abstracting from the human 
body all those features which are not absolutely nec- 
essary for a flourishing of conscious life. In the first 


210 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


place, we could cut off the limbs, sexual organs, teeth, 
ears, and hair, without any essential impairment of 
mentality. And if the arts of surgery and histology 
were sufficiently developed, we might add the skin, 
ribs, muscles, special organs of sense, and even the 
vital parts. If the nervous system—which alone 
would remain—were treated artificially so as to re- 
ceive the identical stimulations which it now receives 
from the neighboring organs, while the normal con- 
ditions of heat and protection from rough contact 
were observed, it would not be too fantastic to con- 
ceive of bundles of nerves hung up in physiological 
laboratories which went through all the emotional 
phases of normal people,—laughed at the latest jokes, 
became intoxicated with liquors, wept at misfortune, 
hoped for better days.t There is nothing intrinsically 
absurd about this notion. We know that sensation 
in the last resort inhabits the nerves and brain, and that 
all other organs merely furnish the conditions neces- 
sary for their functioning. If these could be fur- 
nished artificially, we might indeed have a realization 
of the fancy. 

But have we now arrived at the end; may not the 
analysis be extended still further? We know that the 
nerves and brain themselves, as mere matter, do not 


1 Such a stationary nervous system would resemble an inverted 
plant, the brain standing for the root, the spinal column for 
the main stem, and the nerves emanating therefrom for the 
smaller branches. Indeed, all the nervous activities essential for 
the production of even the highest states of mind are smaller, 
to the eye, than the activities manifested by a tree with its 
leaves and stems slightly agitated. Lay bare the nervous system 
of a man enraptured by a glorious sunset, and less “life” will 
appear than is evident in a rosebush swayed by the wind. 


GROUNDS OF FAITH 211 


suffice for the production of consciousness, but re- 
quire a certain motion besides. May not the essential 
conditions of consciousness be connected somehow with 
this motion? And are we justified in declaring that 
the motion can only be found in a brain and nervous 
system, or, still more, in a brain and nervous system 
like the human? 

We admitted, for the sake of argument, that we 
might deny the presence of consciousness where it was 
unaccompanied by manifestations similar to those in 
man; but we insisted that only essential manifesta- 
tions were to be considered. If, now, the essential 
ones are reducible to subtle complications of motion, 
who can determine where to confirm the right kind 
of complications and where not? Who can prove that 
the heat emanating from a volcano is not part of a 
system more elaborate even than that in the brain 
of man? Who can arrange and classify the granite 
rock, the gushing brook, the tree, the oyster, man him- 
self, the earth, and the solar system, according to 
their grade in the important motion? And who would 
deny the existence of invisible intelligences, when the 
very core of the material conditions governing our 
own intelligence is a phenomenon so elusive and phys- 
ically insignificant? Shall we locate the essence of 
man in his outer garments, and be misled by the flap- 
pings of a scarecrow? Shall we overlook the meditat- 
ing philosopher, while watching the “life” manifested 
in the clothes on the wash-line? Shall we recognize 
life in the rompings of the children, but deny its 
presence in the immovable face of the worshipping 
saint? No, and let this be our final word, embodying 


212 CELGR TYG RA Te ON ios 


the nucleus of these paragraphs of problematic mate- 
rial: not until you show us the fundamental, essential 
conditions of consciousness, and prove that these are 
confined to human beings and animals, shall we be 
prepared to consider whether the rest of the universe 
is dead and unfeeling. Even then there would be 
room for argument; but before so much has been done 
it is folly to be dogmatic. 


Til 


How numerous are the considerations that suggest 
hidden, transcendent realms of being! Take the un- 
certain, fluctuating nature of some of our higher fac- 
ulties. The senses give us photographs of the world; 
the understanding penetrates into this world as with 
telescope and prism. Both reveal what exists apart 
from us; both have their outer juxtapositions, cor- 
responding to the relations within. But when we ex- 
amine the world of morals and beauty, the case is 
different. Here, too, there are distinctions which seem 
to postulate exterior realities, but all search for the 
latter seems destined to remain fruitless. There is no 
constant material expression of our higher emotions, 
no external realization like that which corresponds to 
the faculties of sensation and understanding. Yet 
they feel as if they referred to an order of things 
independent of the individual. Shall this order be 
denied simply because it is hidden from the senses? 
May not the senses be incomplete, while the world 
which they reveal constitutes but a fragment of the 
total reality? To the senses the embrace of the sexes 


GROUNDS OF FAITH apie 


is identically the same thing, whether performed in 
wedlock or in contravention of social usage; but what 
a difference in reality! It is universally conceded that 
the difference is far greater than that, for instance, 
between running a race and sitting in a chair—great 
as this may appear from the viewpoint of the senses. 
But shall the important differences of life be illusory— 
differences in air-castle material, in dream-substance— 
while the unimportant ones correspond to variations 
in outward, solid fact? Is the world of motives a 
shadow-world, while that of jumping and gesticulating 
is real? 

' The conclusion bears down upon us that the deeper 
things in life—meaning, poetry, love—ought also to 
find their expression apart from immediate conscious- 
ness. Acts prompted by the same motives, no mat- 
ter how great their differences as mere facts of sense, 
ought to become manifest in some way as similar in 
nature; while those which are prompted by different 
motives ought to stand forth distinct, even though they 
are externally as similar as two eggs. The unnoticed 
and fruitless attempt to save a drowning man’s life 
must somewhere have effects as great as the ostenta- 
tious endowment of institutions of learning. 

All this may seem fantastic, but it serves to show 
how little we know of the universe, and how man may 
have affiliations which fail to be affected by death. 
There may be more dimensions to the world than we 
suspect ; matter and force may have mysterious aspects 
of which we have never dreamed. 

But, turning to this threatening pair, what have we 
to fear from matter and force; how dare they loom 


214 THIRTY: GREAT SRHINKERS 


up so authoritatively and threaten destruction to the 
spirit? May it not turn out that they themselves have 
no existence apart from mind? Might not a thorough 
development of the idealistic philosophy reveal the 
divinity of material nature, and lead to a conviction of 
immortality? But even if we adopt the common view, 
and regard matter as distinct from spirit, who can as- 
sert that consciousness is dependent upon it, who deny 
its capacity for independent existence? Is it not ev- 
ident that mind runs alongside of matter, without ever 
dipping into it? Can a thing be held to produce an- 
other because it moves parallel with it? The bee 
sways to and fro with the flower, but it is not anni- 
hilated when the flower is plucked. The organist 
draws forth enchanting tones from his instrument, but 
the composition is not lost with the removal of the 
pipes. Matter is the garment of mind; it fits with 
marvellous accuracy, but it can readily be laid aside 
when the trumpeteer of eternity bids us don our heav- 
enly robes. 


IV 


The theory of evolution has done much to weaken 
arguments from design; but it is doubtful whether it 
can explain the superb flowering of thought and 
emotion evident in the realms of beauty and truth. It 
may account for the agreement between the conduit 
of environment-and the enclosed current of ordinary 
life, but when the stream suddenly leaps up in a sym- 
metrical fountain, with jets spouting out toward the 
four points of the horizon, and forming accurate math- 


GROUNDS OF FAITH 215 


ematical figures, our agreement is at an end, and higher 
explanations must be invoked. 

Our cruder instincts and physiological adaptations 
may be compared with the current, moulded and 
directed by the environment; while our finer esthetic 
and intellectual activities correspond to the fountain. 
Natural selection only accounts for those vital phenom- 
ena which have served in the preservation of the 
species. The subtler cognitive and emotional states 
are mere by-products. The lower is nurtured with 
solicitude, the higher serenely neglected. 

By analogy we might expect the dust-particles on 
the floor to settle into Raphael Madonnas, or the shav- 
ings from a carpenter’s bench to assume the form of 
exquisite little Chinese figures. We resemble the ob- 
server who sees stones cut and placed, and names the 
emerging cathedral a by-product. 

Man’s higher nature is a sublimation of that prim- 
itive life which is the direct result of natural selection. 
Instincts which were implanted in order to help in find- 
ing food and killing enemies are developed into 
wonderful mathematical and artistic faculties. We 
take the rude cudgel wielded by primitive man, and 
lo! it serves as a violin and telescope. Is not this 
double and unforeseen use a matter of significance? 
An object designed for high employments may of 
course be put to low ones: a book may be utilized as 
a weight, a watch as a missile. But when we buy a 
cane afid find it responding to the manipulations of a 
- flutist, there is reason for surprise; and we suspect 

that the flute was after all the main end in the man- 
ufacture of the cane. 


216 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


V 


Here, however, I must stop and ask an important 
question: Do the foregoing arguments really con- 
stitute the foundation of my belief; do they actually 
produce conviction? With this we are brought back 
to the considerations of the introduction. I do not 
know, at times, whether to answer yes or no. Truth 
must be quaffed when freshly poured out; allow it to 
stand and it soon becomes stale. Our insights and 
demonstrations may be valid enough when first per- 
ceived, but when after months they are finally relegated 
to paper, they often lack a vital element which they 
‘originally possessed. We may read them and discover 
no flagrant errors; yet they fail to take hold of us with 
their former electrifying power. Indeed, the more 
we search for the missing quality, the more it eludes 
us, until at last, if we continue, even the significance 
that still remained disappears, and all grows blank and 
vapid. 

But we find, upon further consideration, that this 
is the property of all truth. Even the proposition that 
two and two make four becomes meaningless when we 
analyse it too minutely and try to whittle out its es- 
sence. Truth, like Beauty, can be gathered best while 
we are intellectually perambulating. Arrest the bucket 
over your head and the water falls out. Look too 
closely for the charm in the maiden’s face and her 
features are transformed into mere lines and surfaces. 
Truth seems to filter in through the outlying portions 
of the mental eye: it does not strike us with a single 


GROUNDS OF FAITH 217 


ray, but inundates us in a sea of light; it is the out- 
come or complement of mental states. 

The state I was in when first I saw the truths of 
the foregoing pages—the matrix of feeling, presup- 
position, and subconsciousness—this was the animat- 
ing, affirmative element, the foundation of my belief; 
and before I can impart this I cannot hope for 
coerciveness. 

But coercion is not my object. Like persons in a 
conversation, I merely wish to express myself. Per- 
chance some readers will find themselves in similar 
mental states. If so, they may be pleased to note the 
correspondence, and may gather from these lines what 
I was unable to put into them. One truth, however, 
may be repeated for all, namely, that our arguments 
are often but slightly influential in establishing belief. 
We may profess faith in them and regard them as 
the foundation of conviction, yet the real foundation 
lies deeper. Its premises extend into our innermost 
nature; they are not to be counted by the pair, but 
by the hundred and thousand; and the rules according 
to which they lead into the conclusion have not yet 
found their Aristotle. 





DHE EXTENT OF CONSCIOUSNESS 





THE EXTENT OF CONSCIOUSNESS 


HE smallest imaginable extent of conscious- 

ness would be that of the narrow solipsist, 
who confines sensibility to his personal mind. 
Practically this position has been held by no one, every- 
body believing in the conscious illumination at least 
of his fellows. And although the Cartesians denied 
the existence of lower grades of consciousness, most 
people would also place animals within the category 
of sensitive creatures, while some would even include 
plants. With respect to the upward extension of con- 
sciousness, on the other hand, there has been consider- 
able doubt. The religious systems, to be sure, have 
taught the existence of higher and more powerful 
beings,—of angels, demons, and gods; but the truth 
of their doctrines is still in dispute, and there is not 
the same tangible evidence for them as for the exist- 
ence of conscious human beings or animals. This 
upward extension is the subject of the present essay. 
Do beings exist with mental faculties markedly supe- 
rior to those of man; and if so, are they related to 
man,—do they exert a controlling influence over him? 
A survey of our planet gives us no clew to such 
beings; but few thinkers would dogmatically limit 
consciousness to the earth and deny its existence else- 
where, even where the physical conditions are similar 


to those here. However, if the possible habitation of 
221 


222 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


the celestial bodies be admitted, it must also be ad- 
mitted that the mentality of the inhabiting beings 
may be higher than that of mundane creatures. Even 
with us evolution has not completed its course, and 
we hope for the eventual arrival of the “superman.” 
May he not already have arrived among the inhab- 
itants of other worlds; indeed, may not the quality 
of mental nature there evolved be of a character which 
admits of powers unattainable by us? 

Assuming the possible existence, elsewhere, of be- 
ings with superior mental endowments, we must note, 
furthermore, that their physical aspect need not con- 
form to that of homo sapiens or his brute companions. 
We are prone to picture the inhabitants of other worlds 
as about five feet eight inches in height, one hundred 
and fifty pounds in weight, possessed of two arms and 
two legs, and in general as beings copied from the mod- 
els used in our drawing classes. In this, however, we 
are shooting wide from the mark. Considering the 
myriads of accidental variations which the process of 
evolution has used for stepping stones, it is about as 
likely that a man-like creature should once more result, 
in case evolution were repeated, as that a thousand 
peas, emptied from a bag, should twice come to oc- 
cupy exactly the same positions on the floor. 

With these qualifications, we may reasonably ven- 
ture an affirmative answer to our first question, i. ¢., 
whether higher beings exist. Not so with reference 
to the second,—whether we are related to these beings. 
How mentalities so far off in space should exert an 
influence on the inhabitants of this sphere, and es- 
pecially a selective one, varying with the individual, 


THE EXTENT OF CONSCIOUSNESS 223 


is difficult to comprehend. Before we have recourse 
to such a hypothesis, it seems best to return to the 
earth and exhaust the possibilities which are here pre- 
sented. 

On the earth, however, consciousness is confined to 
human beings and animals; and with this we seem 
brought to a standstill. But let us consider the prob- 
lem for a moment, and demand a warrant for the dis- 
couraging limitation. In answer we are told that we 
have no evidence of consciousness elsewhere, that all 
other mundane objects are so unlike the animated be- 
ings of whose existence we are assured, both in their 
appearance and manifestations, that we must deny 
them the attributes of feeling and thinking. This, 
however, is an exemplification of the fallacy that if 
A is B, non-A is not B,—if human beings have legs, 
animals have none, if Parisians speak French, outsiders 
do not. The case is exactly parallel to that of illum- 
inating contrivances, to borrow an example of Fech- 
ner’s. A person acquainted only with candles and 
lamps might reason that a wick, attached to a fuel- 
furnishing mass, were the essential condition of artifi- 
cial illumination; yet gas lights and electric arcs are 
constructed on different principles. Similarly, there 
may be centres of consciousness which do not exhibit 
the “wick and oil” of animal organization. 

It is precarious to argue from external signs to 
inner consciousness. We speak of a parallelism be- 
tween body and mind, the one forming a mirror or 
Teflection of the other. However, the parallelism is 
lame and warped, and the mirror-like reflection as dis- 
torted as one could imagine. Zeal, despair, cheerful- 


224. LTR TY (GREAT NTRS bas 


ness, and lethargy, for example, are radically different 
conditions, yet they are accompanied by almost identi- 
cal bodily manifestations. There may be slight changes 
in the appearance and activities of some of the organs, 
but they are out of all proportion to the pronounced 
emotional disparities. In general, the physiological 
fluctuations which accompany our feelings are insig- 
nificant when compared with the reigning stability. 
What do my bones know of my sorrows and joys? 
Do my muscles become ennobled and shine with celes- 
tial light when my heart is uplifted with devotion? 
Do the members kaleidoscopically change shape when 
gleams of inspiration shoot through the mind? We 
speak of pouring out our soul, of becoming one with 
our friend, of melting with sympathy, or burning with 
enthusiasm, yet our body knows nothing of all these 
operations. It evinces the inner contrasts by signs so 
slight that they almost elude detection,—by micro- 
scopic protrusions of the lips, Lilliputian movements of 
the eyelashes. 

In the case of sleep, especially, it is extravagant to 
speak of parallelism. Sleep is an absolute suspension 
of consciousness,—a negative contrasted with a posi- 
tive, a zero in percentage opposed to the full hundred 
of waking existence. Does the bodily side correspond 
with .this? Do all vital activities cease, all organs 
vanish away? The physiological differences between 
passive consciousness and sleep are so slight that they 
might not unfairly be expressed by the ratio of 
100 : 95. A ratio, accordingly, of 100 to 95 on the 
one side and of 100 to o on the other! Could this 
be regarded as an accurate reflection? 


ELPA DSN OF CONSCIOUSNESS (ie2s 


But if all these inner changes take place with so poor 
an outer registration, have we a right to deny inner 
aspects to the phenomena of nature on the ground that 
they give no evidence thereof? May not the dispro- 
portion here be equally great, may we not be unable 
to recognize the soul-life simply because we have not 
learned to abstract the significant gestures and expres- ° 
sions out of the débris of meaningless movements? 
The indications of feeling in human beings constitute 
a language whose mastery required millions of years, 
and we are still at school, declining its nouns and con- 
jugating its verbs. Is it not illogical, then, to assert 
that the inorganic phenomena about us are meaningless 
jingles, and that there are no languages save our own? 
Perhaps like the fly in the library we are crawling over 
the prophetic words of sublime, supra-human Bibles, 
while discoursing on the odd topography of the region 
we are traversing. If our own bodies were suddenly 
metamorphosed so as to form adequate expressions 
of the inner experiences, reflecting every shade of feel- 
ing with corresponding external variations, disappear- 
ing with the subsidence into sleep and springing into 
renewed being with the return of consciousness, we 
might fail to recognize them as the habitation of 
souls, but might imagine that we were dealing with 
wayward inorganic phenomena, resembling the caprices 
of smoke and fire. 

Thus far we have been confining ourselves to exter- 
nal manifestations. Let us now pass to those inner 
ones on which, more than all others, the production of 
consciousness depends, and which have preferentially 
been singled out as the seat of thought and feeling, 


226 THIRTY }GREA TOY EIN RRS 


psycho-physiologically speaking, namely, the manifesta- 
tions of the brain. It is supposed by men of science 
that our consciousness has its physical counterpart not 
so much in the body as a whole as in the central organ 
of its nervous system. All the physical conditions 
necessary for the maintenance even of the highest states 
of mind are believed to reside in that soft, sponge-like 
substance beneath the skull. Now, it may be con- 
fidently asserted that nobody would, without previous 
information, regard the brain as the habitation of 
thought and emotion, even though he saw it in com- 
plete, living operation. Do plants, brooks, winds, and 
rocks evince less animation? Would one not as soon 
think of endowing them with sensibility as such an 
unmeaning clump of matter? Dare we authoritatively 
assert, then, that although the brain is the seat of a 
wonderful inner life, the inorganic world is dead and 
unfeeling; or that centres of consciousness like the 
brain cannot exist and function without encasement in 
bodies that jump and run? As well assert that con- 
scious beings must possess nervous systems and spe- 
cial organs of sense, a proposition which is notoriously 
untrue. 

So great are the disparities even in the animal king- 
dom that it is impossible to determine the limits be- 
yond which sensibility may no longer arise. Consider 
the elephant, mouse, snake, mosquito, and amceba! 
What astounding variety in appearance and activity, 
with consciousness circulating through it all! In order 
to gain a full realization of the diversity, let us take 
the gaps that separate various groups of animals and 
give them novel points of application; let us note the 


DH ny Examen On CON SCLOUS NDS 53) 227 


contrasts between widely divergent families, and by 
shifting their positions reveal the complete extent of 
the disparity. 

To begin with the attributes of size, we have di- 
minutive creatures like the ant as opposed to giants like 
the elephant and whale. All the graduations between 
these extremes easily fall within the range of percep- 
tibility ; all are subject to our visual control, as it were, 
and the differences between them do not seem remark- 
ably great. To realize their magnitude, let us build 
them out from the larger extreme, substituting the 
whale for the ant, and constructing an imaginary an- 
imal that shall duplicate the relation of the extremes. 
It would cover an immense tract of land, with many 
cubic miles of matter, and might impress us but little 
as a being endowed with consciousness. 

The same result would ensue from a comparison 
of animal movements. The differences are immense, 
as becomes evident when we consider the slow expan- 
sion and contraction of amcebas, the fixity of corals, 
the astounding leaps of certain insects, the rapid flight 
of birds and bees, and the sluggishness of some of the 
larger mammals. Especially noticeable 1s the differ- 
ence in rapidity and extent of movement as compared 
to bodily size; and among the higher animals, at least, 
there seems to be a tendency toward a decrease in 
relative velocity with the increase in dimension. If, 
now, we were to transpose the difference in relative 
activity between a humming-bird and a sloth, sub- 
stituting the sloth for the bird and our hypothetic 
animal for the sloth, it is questionable how much in- 
dication of life we might retain; possibly, indeed, the 


228 THIRTY GREAT: THINKERS 


resulting creature would seem fully as inert as the 
inorganic world. 

The force of all this would be increased by con- 
sidering the difference in the number of special senses 
and in general intelligence between man and the lower 
animals, and similarly transferring this upwards, thus 
obtaining beings with a dozen senses that we lack and 
with intellectual powers far transcending our own; it 
is questionable whether the sharp line of demarcation 
between organic and inorganic nature would remain 
under these conditions, and whether life might not 
sprout forth in numerous unsuspected corners. Co- 
gency is also added to these reasonings when we con- 
sider how certain creatures are only brought into 
contact with the inorganic or purely physiological as- 
pects of their fellow-animals. Does the insect, alight- 
ing on the shell of the tortoise, find more life and 
sensibility in its resting-place than in the stone it has 
just left? Do the lice which infest animals recognize 
the hair among which they nest as the covering of 
keen sensations of pain and delight? Would the 
parasites that inhabit the internal organs of animal 
bodies come to the conclusion that the vital processes 
enveloping them were the basis of intelligence far ex- 
ceeding the scope of their own? We can imagine the 
philosophically inclined among them debating whether 
the great universe inhabited by them—the body of 
the animal—were illumined by reason or operated by 
the blind laws of matter and motion. ‘Where does 
reason enter?” the skeptical ones would demand; ‘“‘is 
not everything governed by the laws of nature, and are 
not these adequate to the task involved? Where is 


iia oe Ne Ore CONSCIOUSNESS.’ 22¢ 


the consciousness that guides the coursing of blood 
through this capillary? If we knew enough about 
the laws of our universe, we should find the speed of 
the blood’s motion conditioned by the action of re- 
moter parts, this again by the behavior of more dis- 
tant regions, and so on, until finally we arrived at 
some central organ, where the conduct of the whole 
was regulated: all is purely mechanical, all can be ex- 
plained by the laws of matter and motion, and design 
is nowhere apparent.’ However, in spite of the 
“mechanical” nature of the phenomena, consciousness 
and purpose do play a part, consciousness accompany- 
ing the phenomena, and purpose producing variations 
therein,—either indirectly, through operations which 
affect the heart’s action, or directly, through friction 
or movement of the part inhabited by the parasite. 
Suppose, now, we were to construct the relation be- 
tween the parasite and the animal it inhabits with man 
at the lower end,—suppose we were to substitute man 
for the parasite,—what would be the aspect of the re- 
lated being? Might it not bear some resemblance to 
the world we inhabit, with its currents of air and water, 
its vibrations of light and sound, and its attractions 
of gravity and magnetism? Here also it is disputed 
whether the phenomena with which we are surrounded 
are the result of blind laws of matter and motion or 
are conditioned by intelligence. May not the disjunc- 
tion, however, be incomplete, may there not be a third 
alternative, namely, that they are the result both of 
adamantine laws and pliable intelligence? The move- 
ments of the vocal cords in man, too, are governed by 
unalterable physical and chemical laws, yet there may 


230 THIRTY, GREAT THINKERS 


be a meaning to them that will be hailed with delight 
by thousands of hearts, and the words they utter may 
rumble down the ages as with the sound of magnificent 
thunder. 

Let us next consider the relations subsisting be- 
tween various species of animals, and their influence 
upon one another. There is a thorough-going inter- 
dependence among members of the animal kingdom, 
and to a considerable degree the individuals affected 
are conscious of this: the fox knows that it is a living 
being which it is-devouring and the chicken is aware 
that it is a fellow-animal by which it is attacked; the 
cat recognizes the dog as an enemy, and the dog its 
master as a friend and companion. Much of the in- 
fluence of life upon life, however, remains hidden to 
the members affected. Thus, when the fish is caught 
in a net, it is not aware that it is the victim of a trick 
planned and executed by a fellow-animal. When the 
bird finds bread-crumbs strewn before the window, it 
fails to suspect that these were put there by sympa- 
thetic hands. And when we arrive at such low crea- 
tures as worms and caterpillars, and with sticks and 
other instruments mimic the action of inorganic ob- 
jects on them, the very limitation of their faculties 
will prevent them from recognizing the manifesta- 
tions of life. There are interactions of life, accord- 
ingly, in which the passive members fail to become 
aware of the active factors. Again transferring this 
relation upwards, and putting man into the place of the 
inferior animals, we shall likewise find him affected in 
numerous ways which seem accidental and unpurpos- 
sive, but which are the manifestations of superhuman 


ih CENA On CONSCIOUSNESS) 23% 


hands and sticks. While apparently tossed about by 
the blind laws of fate and chance, he may be guided 
by beings of transcendent power. 

We may conclude, accordingly, that the differences 
between human beings and inorganic nature may be 
no greater than those between the lower animals and 
ourselves; that as portions of nature—the higher or- 
ganisms—which appear unanimated to their lower fel- 
lows are really imbued with consciousness, so also 
tracts of the inorganic world may belong to animated 
organisms far superior to ourselves; and that as the 
higher animals, and especially man, are able to exert 
a regulating influence over the lower ones, imper- 
ceptible to the latter as such, so our fortunes, too, 
may be controlled by overarching spiritual beings. 

These beings are to be sought, not only in the per- 
ceptible world about us, but also in that which is im- 
perceptible; for the universe as we know it probably 
does not represent, even approximately, the final, total 
reality. As Balfour says: “If the current doctrine 
of evolution be true, we have no choice but to admit 
that with the great mass of natural fact we are prob- 
ably brought into no sensible relation at all. . . . For 
to suppose that a course of development carried out, 
not with the object of extending knowledge or satisfy- 
ing curiosity, but solely with that of promoting life, on 
an area so insignificant as the surface of the earth, 
between limits of temperature and pressure so nar- 
row, and under general conditions so exceptional, 
should have ended in supplying us with senses even 
approximately adequate to the apprehension of Nature 
in all her complexities, is to believe in a coincidence 


age VEL DR TYG REA Ny ery 


more astounding than the most audacious novelist 
has ever employed to cut the knot of some entangled 
talein? 

Here, accordingly, we leave the earth, and again 
pass to the heavenly bodies that freckle our firmament, 
as likewise to those aspects of being of which, through 
the limitation of our faculties, we can form no con- 
ception; but which we surmise to surround and in- 
terpenetrate the world of our microscopes and tele- 
scopes. The planets and, stars, too distant at first for 
any conscious interaction, may be more closely con- 
nected with us than we thought. Possibly, like the 
cells of the human body, they combine in the formation 
of mighty organisms, of which the stars are single 
members. Better, however, will it be altogether to 
discard the distinction between the earth and the rest 
of the universe, and to speak rather of the great body 
of unknown fact which fails to appear either here on 
this mundane sphere or yonder in the skies. The phys- 
ical universe as we know it may be a distorted man- 
ifestation of the central reality. We may have 
connections of which we have never dreamed, may be 
surrounded by forms of life so strange that the fairy- 
land of mythology, with its nymphs and fauns, its 
elves and giants, forms a truer approach to reality than 
the classification-tree of modern science; which, while 
affording us knowledge, threatens to shut us out of 
our paradise of yearning and aspiration. 

v Yes, may!’’.is' the answer; “all this imayenn 
deed be true, but what evidence have we that it is? 


1 Balfour, The Foundations of Belief, Longmans, Green and Co., 
New York and London, 1895, p. 60. 


Hy Peer NAS OF; GONSGIOUS NESS 5233 


The mere possibility was apparent from the beginning, 
without all this detailed argument; but what are the 
considerations that will transform it into a solid prob- 
ability?” To begin with, even a mere possibility is 
by no means to be scorned. For the common attitude 
of people toward the subjects considered—so far as it 
is not bound up with religious beliefs—is not one of 
neutrality, but of skepticism or hostility. To have 
wrested a “may be” from the disbelievers, accord- 
ingly, is a result well worth an essay. 

But are we not justified in advancing beyond this? 
Will not a thorough appreciation of the possibility by 
itself lead over into the likelihood? This shifting of 
the burden of proof, this metamorphosis of defensive 
into offensive, is not new. Geology and evolution 
afford analogous cases. When geological theories 
were first propounded, the onus probandi must natu- 
rally have rested on the promulgators: it was for them 
to prove that the diversities of the earth’s surface 
were really produced by the agents postulated in their 
theories. Today, however, after working ourselves 
into their point of view, after learning to observe the 
operation of the natural forces and compute their 
amounts during supposed ages of activity, we should 
find it difficult to conceive that the phenomena in ques- 
tion should not have been produced by the geological 
forces; it would remain to prove, not how mountains 
could have been chiselled and continents built, but how 
they could have avoided being so evolved. The theory 
‘of evolution, too, had a stubborn fight for several dec- 
ades, and most rigorous demands were made of it in 
the way of proof. Having since been applied so suc- 


234 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


cessfully in related fields, however, and become accli- 
mated in the intellectual atmosphere of the people, its 
conclusions are difficult to escape ; how species could re- 
main constant, how they could avoid changing, would 
now be the difficult matter to comprehend. The tables 
have been turned, the apologists have become the ag- 
gressors, and the burden of proof has fallen on the 
shoulders of the opponents. 

Similar is the case before us. Endeavoring to ren- 
der plausible the existence of heterogeneous spirit- 
ualities, we are challenged to prove our statements 
and transform our impotent possibility into a solid 
probability. But will not an adequate realization of 
the possibility by itself effect the desired transforma- 
tion? Will not some, at least, of our numerous seeds 
of speculation fall into the fruitful soil of reality ? 
The poverty of our experience and limitation of our 
outlook already furnish the strongest presumption in 
favor of the truth of our supposition. If a man 
regards the universe as a comfortable two-story resi- 
dence, with earth for the ground floor, heaven for the 
second story, and hell for the basement, it is not sur- 
prising that skepticism concerning the habitation of 
the upper story and cellar should end in the conviction 
that he himself, with his poodles and canaries, were the 
sole tenant of creation. But if he draws aside his 
curtains and views the mansions lining the avenues, 
if he looks beyond and catches glimpses of fields and 
woods, with smoke curling up from the hamlets, and 
song and perfume greeting him from every direction, 
he begins to suspect that there may be further life stir- 
ring about him. It makes the greatest difference 


hee NTO GONSGIOUSNESS 235 


whether we choose the Ptolemaic view of the universe, 
—according to which we form the centre of things, 
about which everything else revolves,—or adopt the 
theory of Copernicus, which teaches us that we are the 
merest little stitch on the garment of reality. Most 
of us, it is true, have accepted the Copernican doctrine 
in the astronomical sense, but from the broader cos- 
mological point of view we are still predominantly the 
adherents of Ptolemy: we still believe that the phe- 
nomena we know well-nigh exhaust all possible aspects 
of being, and deny the existence of melodies which do 
not adapt themselves to the meagre harmonies of our 
mental accordions. 

When we consider the enormous wealth of the uni- 
verse, the undiscovered realms that undoubtedly en- 
compass us, many layers thick, the poverty of our 
intellect, and its inability to cope with the problems 
of existence; when we see how living beings exist 
around and within us of mental grades so low that 
they cannot distinguish between ourselves and inor- 
ganic nature; when we reason that we may be similarly 
situated in relation to still higher grades of being,— 
the proposition that there are spiritual forces of whose 
existence we are ignorant, and which have a relation 
to and influence over us, loses its hypothetical charac- 
ter, and its bare possibility solidifies into a firm prob- 
ability. As in the cases of geology and evolution, we 
are tempted to fling back the burden of proof on the 
shoulders of the skeptic, and to demand whether the 
- doubt in these things is not rather the aggressive step, 
which requires a supporting warrant. If I shoot once 
at a target, the chances are that I shall not hit the 


236 ETRODY (GRA PEIN Tors 


bull’s-eye unless I am a practised shot; and to convince 
a bystander of the contrary requires some positive 
reason in support. But if I shoot a thousand times, 
he must furnish the reason who asserts that I shall 
never hit it. Similarly, it is incumbent on the skeptic 
to back his statements with proof, who declares that 
animals and men are the only lucky shots in the uni- 
verse, and that all others are destined to fail in their 
attempts to hit the bull’s-eye of consciousness. 

The theory thus developed is connected with no spe- 
cial religious creed or theological dogma, and the ob- 
jections which might be made to it on that score are 
without force. There are many people who bristle 
with opposition as soon as they scent the word God, 
—opposition based on the improbability of miracles, 
the disagreement between the sects, the contradictions 
in the Bible, the evil in the world, and similar grounds. 
However, such objections are futile with reference to 
the doctrine of higher spiritual beings set forth in the 
preceding pages, but only have validity against spe- 
cial forms of that doctrine. The conclusions reached 
are compatible with almost any form of belief or un- 
belief, the freest as well as the most stringent; they 
are compatible, in fact, with any creed except that 
which expressly denies them. 

Our inquiry was a special investigation into concrete 
matters of fact, comparable to any of the ordinary in- 
vestigations of science. It was merely an inquiry 
into the extension of consciousness upwards from man, 
not essentially different from that which attempts to 
define and bound it below him, in the realm of pro- 
tists. With ultimate questions as to the nature and 


THE EXTENT OF CONSCIOUSNESS 237 


government of the universe it had nothing to do; and 
arguments based on ultimate conceptions cannot affect 
its conclusions. Whether there are only a few grades 
of mentality above man or many, whether or not 
there is a central being who might be designated as 
God, whether God is a personal or an impersonal be- 
ing, whether he is actuated solely by love, whether 
he is omnipotent or opposed by an Ahriman of rival 
power,—all are questions which transcend the scope 
of the inquiry; all can be answered in various ways 
and still remain compatible with its principal conclu- 
sions. 

At present we shall not enter into these matters. 
But there is one question with a deep emotional inter- 
est on which it may be well to add a word. It is the 
problem of immortality. This, like the other sub- 
jects alluded to, is not directly involved in the prin- 
cipal conclusions of our inquiry; these could be true 
and yet the question might receive a negative or an 
affirmative answer. Nevertheless it would seem as if 
the establishment of the conclusions would also 
strengthen the probability of immortality. For a locus 
and outlet of human souls would thereby be gained ; and 
as the conscious realm of the universe expanded and 
approached co-extension with the material, the prob- 
ability would also grow that the indestructibility char- 
acteristic of the latter obtained of the former as well. 
As to the nature of the future existence, even specula- 
tion, of course, has no spectroscopes keen enough to 
yield definite information. However, the general up- 
ward tendency of life, and the salutary, purgative na- 
ture of much of the existing evil, would seem to warrant 


238 THIRTY GREAT  OHIN RES 


that on the whole it will be no worse than the present 
life, while very likely it will even be better. The 
words of Emerson are appropriate in this connection :— 

“All the comfort I have found teaches me to confide 
that I shall not have less in times and places that I do 
not yet know. I have known admirable persons, with- 
out feeling that they exhaust the possibilities of virtue 
and talent. I have seen what glories of climate, of 
summer mornings and evenings, of midnight sky; 
I have enjoyed the benefits of all this complex ma- 
chinery of arts and civilization, and its results of com- 
fort. The good Power can easily provide me mil- 
lions more as good. . . . All I have seen teaches me 
to trust the Creator for all I have not seen. What- 
ever it be which the great Providence prepares for us, 
it must be something large and generous, and in the 
great style of his works. The future must be up to 
the style of our faculties,—of memory, of hope, of 
imagination, of reason.” 4 


1Emerson, Letters and Social Aims, Houghton, Mifflin and 
Company, Boston, 1894, p. 320. 


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HE human body is the inveterate obstacle to:a 

belief in immortality. How can we continue 

to exist when our physical substratum is de- 

stroyed? Under what form shall we picture the soul 
after it is divorced from its material support? 

The tacit presupposition underlying these doubts is, 
that the body really brings us into contact with the 
spirit, and that in its manifestations we really see and 
feel spirit. A disintegration of the one, accordingly, 
answers to a disintegration of the other. The pre- 
supposition, however, is fallacious. Body is not syn- 
onymous with soul. We approach no nearer to 
mentality in the most expressive countenance than in 
the heaviest clod of earth. 

Imagine four human figures lying side by side, ex- 
actly alike in form and expression. The one is a wax 
figure, the other a corpse, the third is a sleeping in- 
dividual, and the fourth a poet illumined by quiet but 
ecstatic inspiration. In the first case there never was 
any consciousness, nor will there ever be any; in the 
second its possibility was there, but has irrevocably 
departed. In the third sensibility is potential—ready 
at any moment to break forth into actuality—while 
in the fourth it is at a white heat, the mind fairly 
blazing with vivid emotion and imagery. From the 
exterior there is exact similarity: a bird could not dis- 

241 


242 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


tinguish between the figures, nor could a human be- 
ing at a moderate distance. Yet what an astounding 
divergence of inner life! Does not this one example 
forcibly illustrate the elusiveness of spirit and the hope- 
less inability of our mind to lay hold of its essence? Is 
it not clear that we could keep dipping throughout 
eternity into the realm of physiological manifestation 
without ever seizing the prize of mentality? 

“But,” it may be retorted, “your case is fanciful; 
human beings do not remain motionless for any length 
of time: they stir about, make gestures, give communi- 
cative signs; and it is here that we come into contact 
with the soul.” 

To be sure, no life actually completes its course in 
a position of quiet meditation; yet there is no reason 
why it might not conceivably do so. The amount and 
rapidity of an organism’s motion, and the proportion 
between the periods of rest and those of activity, are 
variable, unessential matters. Compare the inert 
chameleon with the restless goldfish, the stationary 
coral with the roaming bird of passage! The period 
of bodily quiescence, accompanied by mental activity, 
may be a minute or an hour in length,—it matters 
not. And if it lasts sixty minutes there is no reason 
why it might not last sixty times sixty, or in fact cover 
as many years or centuries. The point is, that there 
is hidden, elusive sensibility, which no amount of phys- 
ical examination succeeds in bringing to view. 

But accepting the objection at its full force, we still 
find our thesis valid. Motion brings us no nearer to 
spirit than inert matter. The somnambulist performs 
movements fully as purposive as his waking neigh- 


POSSIBILITY OF AN AFTER LIFE 243 


bor. The sleeper, without being aware of the fact, 
responds to external stimulations with appropriate re- 
actions. The epileptic unconsciously goes through the 
most violent activities. On the other hand a mere 
quiver of the lips or a tear in the eye may be the 
expression of vivid inner experiences. The wrinkling 
of the brow may be more suggestive of feeling than the 
strides of the athlete. And the immovable poet, to re- 
cur to our original case, may be experiencing the deep- 
est emotions of all. We may have violent movements 
with but little mentality, and delicate ones with a good 
deal. We may have movement without feeling, and 
feeling without movement. 

Motion, in short, as embodied in the expressive, 
communicative activities of animals and men, is merely 
a language, whose words we have empirically learned 
to understand. There is no more essential connec- 
tion between this language and the consciousness it 
brings to view than there is between the philologist’s 
parts of speech and the objects they denote. A long 
word may stand for an insignificant thing, a short word 
for something important; random concatenations of 
syllables signify nothing at all, while numerous aspects 
of nature and life have no verbal expression what- 
ever. So, likewise, with the visible manifestations of 
life. They, too, are mere arbitrary signs or labels, 
which experience has taught us to comprehend. They 
do not bring us into contact with the things they stand 
for, and it is not precluded that there may be other 
dialects, or, to continue the metaphor, that thought 
may exist without formulation at all. We resemble 
the backwoodsman who has never heard a foreign 


244 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


language, and who cannot comprehend the possibility 
of uttering thoughts by sounds to which he is unac- 
customed. “Sweet” and “sour”? seem connected with 
their respective tastes by some cosmic necessity. The 
possibility of interchanging these words and saying 
“sour” when we mean “sweet,” is as remote to his 
imagination as that of turning time about and putting 
the future before*the past. 

So then, neither the bodies of men nor their expres- 
sive activities bring us into contact with their spirit. 
Human beings are fully as mysterious as ghosts; in- 
deed, as Carlyle has observed, they are ghosts. The 
motion of my hand is as much of a riddle as the won- 
ders reported by spiritualists. We merely happen to 
have caught the meaning of certain manifestations 
of sensibility, we have deciphered the Rosetta Stone 
which has given us the key to the hieroglyphics of 
human expressive and communicative signs. But we 
are not justified, as a consequence, in denying the 
reality of different systems of verbal expression, met- 
aphorically speaking, and in asserting that our single 
language of bodily and facial movements, with the 
related dialects of the brute world, is the only possible. 
avenue of communication, that thought cannot find 
utterance in other tongues, or that it is unable to exist 
without encasement in bodily language. In short 
and without figurative embellishment, the traditional 
limitation of sensibility to the manifestations of human 
beings and animals is totally unwarranted; the fact 
that traces of animation are evident nowhere else by 
no means justifies us in concluding that there can be 
no such animation. Hence human souls, too, may con- 


BOSSE Tati Ole AINA lien iol Hii ioc 


ceivably exist after the dissolution of the body, even 
though we possess no positive evidence that such is 
the case. 

Yet the miracle seems too great for acceptance; the 
arguments may find verbal assent, yet there is an in- 
veterate unwillingness to postulate a continuance of 
human personality when every vestige of it has dis- 
appeared. To soften this unwillingness, it might be 
well to point out that nature is daily performing feats 
that are equally miraculous. Imagine the earth con- 
taining but a single form of vegetable life—an apple 
tree—represented by a single specimen. ‘This solitary 
tree dies. Now show the inconsolable populace an 
apple seed and declare that another blossoming tree 
shall soon replace the one that was lost: what will be 
their reception of this well-meant consolation? Will 
they not skeptically shake their heads, or scoff and 
sneer? And in fact, does it not border on the miracu- 
lous that so small a particle of matter should contain 
such possibilities within its tiny limits? And how 
about the transmission of life in the animal kingdom? 
Does it not silence all skepticism to observe the body 
and spirit of a father lodging in the recesses of the 
semen and blossoming forth, twenty years later, in a 
similar physique and character, even down to the 
minutest details? 

It may be objected that these analogies are not ac- 
curate, that a new individual here replaces the old, 
while a genuine correspondence would demand a trans- 
- formation and rejuvenation of the original being. The 
purpose of the illustrations, however, is not to furnish 
exact parallels, but to indicate marvels, equally great, 


246 DETTE GR Aa EN or is 


thus rendering more acceptable the miracle of a sur- 
vival after death. For the wonder does not lie in the 
fact that the same individual is transformed or a 
similar one produced, but in the disproportion between 
the antecedent and the consequent, and the apparent 
inadequacy of the former to account for the latter. As 
a matter of fact, however, we have exact analogues 
of the soul’s immortality; or say rather of its survival, 
for we are not concerned primarily with the eternity, 
but with the reality of the after life: once assure 
us of another existence and we shall willingly postpone 
the question as to its duration. The first analogue 
is to be found in the metamorphosis of the caterpillar 
into the butterfly. Here we see an individual dying, 
as it were, and passing into another state of being. 
From the point of view of the human observer, to be 
sure, the transformation is perfectly natural, but from 
that of the caterpillar it must seem fully as incompre- 
hensible as our own supposed continuation after death. 

The same is true of the second analogy, embodied 
in the birth of the human baby. Were the fcetus able 
to philosophize, the hour of birth would undoubtedly 
appear synonymous with that of dissolution: its warm, 
comfortable habitation is abandoned and it is severed 
from the source of its strength and being. What else 
but death, annihilation can it mean? What concep- 
tion of the future life and of its subsequent develop- 
ment into an adult can it have? 

In these cases we have a physical continuity. A 
conscious or mental connection is yielded by memory. 
Memory is an immortality in miniature. The event 
in which we have participated does not pass away, like 


POSSTBIEIY (ORS AN CATR Tel Il 7247 


an impression on a rubber ball, but leaves its trace 
behind ; and years after may still be recalled, if not with 
the full vigor of an initial impression, at least in the 
softened form of a mental image. The significance of 
memory is heightened by the results of psychological 
investigation, which indicate that there is a good deal 
slumbering in the folds of our brain of which we are 
not aware, and which have led some thinkers to de- 
clare that nothing is ever quite forgotten. It is also 
heightened by those moments of poetic inspiration in 
which we seem to grasp in one thought occurrences cov- 
ering years of time, and to be lifted to the threshold 
of higher realms of being. The suggestion is forcibly 
impressed, at such times, that we are in fact living 
near the borderland of hidden states of existence, and 
that death may rend the curtain which prevents us from 
beholding their radiance. In memory the past re- 
turns to us in fragments, in the moments of inspiration 
it is united into significant vistas: may not death effect 
a still further transformation, lifting into the full glare 
of daylight what is here merely experienced in a dream? 

As a final guarantee of immortality, underlying 
every other consideration, we must refer to the vastness 
and mystery of the cosmos, which yields so ample a 
playground for miraculous transformations of being. 
A philosopher of the Middle Ages, growing skeptical 
as to the contents of revealed religion, might have 
found it difficult to believe in heterogeneous realms of 
spirit. His universe was a little yard, observable 
and measurable from end to end; there were no infinite 
abysses of space, no untold possibilities of sensation 
arising from changes in the psychological conditions 


248 WER DY GREATS h ECUN Kerra 


of perception. What he saw constituted the bulk of 
creation, and the rest was a mere “‘fringe,” not markedly 
different from the regions in which he lived. Our 
universe, on the contrary, is an immeasurable forest, 
with depths and caverns into which human eye has 
never peered. ‘The medizval reasoner, with his barn- 
yard outlook, might have found it difficult to believe in 
the mysterious forms of transcendental being, but for 
the modern their existence demands no _ intellectual 
strain. Indeed, it would be miraculous to traverse the 
endless forests of the All and find them uninhabited: 
the wonder would be, to find consciousness restricted 
to the little point of our sensible appreciation, the 
oceanic isle which we inhabit, instead of covering the 
whole extent of the universe. It would lead us too 
far to indicate, even superficially, the untold possibili- 
ties of being, imperceptible not only through our spa- 
tial limitations but also through our ignorance of the 
forces most closely surrounding and interpenetrating 
us. A perusal of Crookes’ Address before the Society 
for Psychical Research (1897), and of the chapter on 
Natural Supernaturalism in Carlyle’s Sartor Resartus, 
will give some idea of the immeasurable extent of the 
forest. 

The possibility of an after life must then be assumed. 
The manifestations of the human body bring us no 
closer to the spirit than those of inorganic nature: they 
constitute a mere system of signs,— a language which 
associatively points to certain spiritual facts, but which 
by no means precludes the existence of other systems, 
or of unembodied sensibility. The development of 
vegetables and animals is fully as miraculous as the 


POSSIBILITY OF AN AFTER LIFE 249 


survival of human souls, while the metamorphosis of 
caterpillars and the birth of animals afford actual in- 
stances of physical immortality (or survivals of death), 
which are psychically matched by the phenomena of 
memory. In the richness and mystery of the universe, 
finally, we have a locus, a field of action, for those 
transformations of being whose possibility the fore- 
going considerations have endeavored to establish. 


» 





MENTAL OVERTONES 


MENTAL OVERTONES 


periences are not to be regarded as impressions 

created anew and complete with every occurrence ; 
they are influenced largely by our past experiences, 
memories of which cast their rays into the present and 
give it color and significance. The situation is like 
that in a verbal sentence, where a word near the end 
gains much of its import from the words which have 
gone before. Consider the following sentences: 

He saw a penny on the ground which had evidently 
been lost. . 

The child burst into tears as it realized that it was 
lost. 

The dying man moaned as he felt that his soul was 
irretrievably lost. 

What is the reason for the difference in effect of the 
final word? Clearly the influence of the preceding 
words. And not only this, but there will be a further 
difference, according to the previous experiences of the 
person reading the sentences. Thus the second sen- 
tence may ordinarily not arouse much emotion; but 
if it is a fond mother who reads it,—a mother who ts 
concerned about the welfare of her own little child,— 
the words of the sentence may produce a slight rever- 
beration of sympathy; while the third sentence may 
actually produce an emotion akin to terror in the heart 

253 


[ is a commonplace of psychology that our ex- 


254 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


of one who has recently been tortured with doubts as to 
his salvation. Here too it is the memory of what has 
gone before that produces the effect. 

We know with what delight a friend will recite some 
interesting passage from a novel, illustrating a peculiar 
trait of one of the characters. Yet though we smile 
sympathetically, we fail to derive the same pleasure as 
our friend. Why is this? It is because we receive 
the passage merely by itself, while our friend sees it 
with its long background of previous events in the 
story. The humorous trait—it may be—which is illus- 
trated, has occurred dozens of times in the previous 
pages, and it is the cumulative effect of all these fore- 
going passages which “plays along” and gives such 
a delightful quality to the words in question. This, 
likewise, is the explanation of the overpowering effect 
produced by the tragic conclusions of certain novels,— 
like Madame Bovary or Regina. It is not the last 
chapter by itself that moves us, but the last chapter 
with all the preceding chapters crowding into it. For 
this reason, likewise, it is practically impossible to 
produce a similarly powerful effect by means of a 
short story. There is not enough background to give 
weight to the words, no matter how ingenious the story 
or masterly its handling. 

And to take another illustration from the realm 
of the novel, it is familiar with what solicitude we 
follow the career of the hero, while remaining un- 
moved by the vicissitudes of the secondary characters. 
In some novels, like “Treasure Island,” almost all the 
characters suffer death, yet we are indifferent if only 
the hero comes out alive. Is this because his career 


MENTAL OVERTONES 255 


is so much more valuable? By no means. It is only 
because we have followed his career from the begin- 
ning. It has a background. Its events are connected 
with one another by an invisible thread, and there is a 
cumulative effect which is not present in the case of 
the other characters. These seem to cross the path 
of the hero at all angles. We know not whence they 
come, and we care not whither they go. But assur- 
edly, these characters have histories that are interest- 
ing as well, and a substitution for the hero would 
at once bring this fact to view: the new courses 
of events would now assume importance, while the 
other would leave us cold. It would be a psychological 
experiment of the highest interest to write a novel, and 
then take each of the secondary characters and make 
it the center of a new story. The result would be a 
baffling shifting of interest, and it would become ap- 
parent how complex and subject to point of view the 
realm of human experience really is. 

The writer some years ago published an essay in 
which the foregoing principles were developed at some 
length, the attempt being made to explain the bewilder- 
ing relativity of standards in the reaims of beauty and 
morality. The following is a sentence from this es- 
say: 

“The associations of an object, the circumstances 
and feelings in connection with which it has been ex- 
perienced, are an important factor in its nature and 
meaning. They are packed into it as the overtones of 
a fundamental are merged into its timbre.” 


1 The Fluctuations of Beauty and Morality, in Racial Con- 
trasts, G. P. Putnam’s Sons, New York, 1908. 


256 DHIRDYCGR RAT RELLN Si hes 


This simile of the overtones, indeed, is of great 
value, and we shall use it repeatedly in the present 
essay. Now, in music the overtones are the elements 
which contribute timbre to a tone; and corresponding 
to them in life, the revived past experiences of an ob- 
ject or event, clustering about the latter, are responsible 
for much of its emotional value. If the name or sight 
of a person who insulted us causes our heart to beat 
faster, this is because the memory of certain past ex- 
periences connected with that person is aroused and 
chimes along. And if a decorated Christmas tree or 
the smell of a cup of coffee arouses poetic sentiments, 
it is because the recollection of youthful experiences 
in connection with the tree and cosy chats over the cup 
of coffee are likewise aroused and shed their influence 
on the object perceived. 

Now, the musical overtones have been scientifically 
examined, measured, and explained. We know what 
overtones are operative when we hear a tone with a 
certain timbre, and we likewise know what timbre to 
expect when we are given a series of overtones. Some 
tones have no overtones at all, others have only a 
few, and others still a great many. Trumpets have 
high overtones, whence their piercing effect; clarinets 
owe their tonal quality to the presence of the odd mem- 
bers only in the overtone series; and so on through the 
entire list of instruments. This being the situation 
in the realm of tones, the thought naturally suggests 
itself: would it not be advantageous to submit the 
mental overtones to a similar analysis and systematiza- 
tion? Here, too, there must be laws of arrangement 


MENTAL OVERTONES 257 


and operation, and it behoves us, as psychologists, to 
fathom the nature of these laws. 

The timbre of a tone has been found to depend on 
the number, arrangement, and intensity of the over- 
tones. The mental overtones vary in somewhat sim- 
ilar ways: we have differences in the number, temporal 
arrangement, and quality of the experiences which are 
focussed into the present perception. “The boyhood 
friend has touched our life at more points than has our 
acquaintance of last summer, and the timbre of emo- 
tion which his presence arouses is different. The 
Christmas tree greets our eyes at widely separated in- 
tervals, and there is a freshness of feeling accompany- 
ing its perception which is not present in the case of 
the elm before the door that we see every day. The 
holiday bells, the funeral wreath, the wedding cere- 
mony, the quiet of Sunday, differ in the nature of the 
concomitant feelings, and this divergence ever after 
imparts a characteristic tinge.’ 

It is a matter of importance, indeed, to shed light on 
this mysterious subject. We must throw the spectro- 
scope of investigation on the feelings which envelop 
our perceptions, and analyze them into the past ex- 
periences of which they are composed. Will this ever 
be possible? Is it within the power of the human 
mind to take a feeling and analyze it into the hundreds 
or thousands of preceding experiences which contribute 
to its nature? A difficult task, to be sure. Yet it is 
not for men of science to give up before making an 
attempt. The very example of the spectroscope, which 
analyzes a seemingly homogeneous ray of light into its 


258 DAUR TYS GRATER bs 


constituent colors, and even shows us what elements 
are present in the stars, ought to inspire us with con- 
fidence. And how is it with the musical overtones? 
Hiding in the matrix of sound, they have likewise been 
extricated, and are now compelled to emerge at the 
summons of the detecting resonator. May it not be 
possible to invent psychical spectroscopes and resonat- 
ors as well, which will search out the hidden compo- 
nents of our feelings? Indeed, have not the hypnotic 
trance and Freudian analysis already accomplished mar- 
vels in bringing to view the buried substrata of our 
mental life? And even though a complete analysis 
may not be within reach, it must surely be possible to 
throw a certain amount of light on the subject. To 
borrow again from the essay in question, we may refer 
to the fads and fancies with which people fill their 
spare hours. A rare coin and a rare stamp may claim 
a moment’s interest from most of us, but it is only 
the collector who is thrilled by the sight of these arti- 
cles. Why is he thrilled, while we are not? It is 
because a whole history of previous experiences is 
tapped in his case, while we perceive the objects with- 
out background. And the normal course of experi- 
ences is much alike with all collectors. At first there 
is an incipient interest. This swells and grows, being 
stimulated when specimens are obtained and thwarted 
when they are not. Finally a culmination of interest 
is reached, after which the fad begins to weaken again, 
until at last it dies off into indifference. It would be 
easy to represent the process graphically. And the 
quality of feeling and interest aroused by a particular 
specimen does not depend primarily on this specimen 


MENTAL OVERTONES 259 


as such, but rather on the point in the process at 
which it is introduced, and thus on the number and 
kind of previous experiences which are crowded into 
it. And so with other aspects of life as well. These 
also depend on previous experiences, and analysis 
ought to succeed in throwing considerable light on 
their elusive nature. 

What would be the value of such insight? A ques- 
tion which ought not to be asked by men of science. 
It is truth we are after, and truth need present no cer- 
tificate of utility for its credentials. Furthermore, 
who can tell in what unexpected ways a truth may not 
suddenly become valuable? Few things would seem 
to have less practical worth than the investigation of 
beats and overtones as prosecuted by Helmholtz. Yet 
it is easy to see of what immense value the results might 
be in the invention of the telephone. In fact, we know 
that Bell actually studied the writings of Helmholtz 
while working on his invention, and it may well be 
that the insight he gained was of assistance in arriv- 
ing at his results. Again, what practical value would 
one at first sight detect in the psychological tests which 
are more and more coming into vogue? They make 
the impression of mere parlor games,—material for 
an evening’s pastime and nothing more. Yet we may 
live to see the day when they will have developed into 
a means of diagnosing a person’s character and abili- 
ties, and through fitting him for the proper vocation 
and sphere of life, adding immensely to his happiness 
and economic output. 

One result of our investigation was already pointed 
out in the essay above referred to. Knowledge of the 


260 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


“overtone-series” operative in our esthetic effects would 
give us absolute formule of what constitutes beauty,— 
in so far as beauty depends on associations of the kind 
mentioned above. The reason why we are baffled by 
the bewildering heterogeneity of the objects which are 
called beautiful in different parts of the world, is be- 
cause we confine our examination too exclusively to 
the objects as such, without considering their connec- 
tions with the past. It is as if we were to take a rare 
coin and a stamp, and to try and account for the 
similar effect produced on the respective collectors 
by something which their shape or color had in com- 
mon. We could analyze the objective aspects of the 
articles till doomsday, without finding that secret 
element which they share, and which awakens such 
characteristic emotions in the minds of the collectors. 
And the true secret of the matter is evident to one who 
has read the preceding paragraphs: the articles pro- 
duce similar effects because they are the condensation 
of similar series of past experiences. A graphical 
representation of these experiences would at once make 
this clear. While the objects themselves are different, 
the series of preceding experiences are the same. But 
the same object with and without preceding experi- 
ences,—1t. ¢., as seen by a collector and a non-collector, 
—would at once become apparent as different in spite 
of the objective similarity. In some such way it 
would be possible to explain many of the diversities 
of taste in different countries and historical periods. 
Like the coin and the stamp, esthetic objects which 
show great differences from an objective point of 


MENTAL OVERTONES 261 


view might be similar with reference to their back- 
grounds of previous experience, and a description of 
these backgrounds, as suggested, would give us abso- 
lute formule for zsthetic effects. 

All this is perfectly clear, and ought by itself to 
furnish a sufficient incentive toward the investigation 
we are suggesting. But our inquiry will lead us fur- 
ther. Here, to be sure, we shall soon leave the ground 
of verifiable fact. So far, what we have brought 
forward is based on solid experience, and it is only the 
difficulty of analysis, not any inherent uncertainty as 
to the results, that prevents us from arriving at the 
desired conclusions. Not so with what follows. 
This will lead us out of the realm of solid experience 
into that of speculation. However, it is not for that 
reason to be condemned. For just as the apparently 
trivial and useless has often turned out to be valuable, 
so the fanciful and imaginary has likewise been found 
to be true. 

The value and significance of our perceptions, we 
have said, depend largely on the traces of past experi- 
ences which cluster about them. Hundreds or thou- 
sands of experiences, reaching back through years of 
time, may thus be represented in a single feeling or 
perception. And by means of these, in a way, we 
really “span’’ the occurrences or experiences from which 
they were derived. Let us suppose, for example, that 
we have seen a certain person once a week for a year. 
Graphically it will be easy to represent this by means 
of fifty-two little circles placed side by side,—ever 
diminishing in size until the last one is of the tiniest 


262 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


dimensions. If, now, we were to press these circles 
together, like a spring, and enclose them in the present 
perception of the person in question,—which might be 
represented by a big circle,—we should actually have 
a miniature, although distorted, representation of all 
these fifty-two experiences. That is, we should abor- 
tively be spanning a year of time, so far as our 
contact with that person was concerned. Of course, 
it is unlikely that a sweep of perception covering a 
year’s time would confine itself to a single, narrow 
line of objects, like the contacts with the person in 
question. Instead, it would spread out extensively to 
either side, and take in a multitude and variety of 
objects. And so, too, our miniature representation of 
a longer period, if it is to correspond to the actual 
contents of such a period, must be of a rounded nature, 
and contain traces of a great number and variety of 
experiences. This condition seems to be fulfilled in 
works of art (including literature). It is a char- 
acteristic of such works to embody a multitude of 
associations. Poems which reproduce the poetic effects 
of nature give a wealth of details converging on the 
desired effect. And pictures frequently make use of 
the same device. The representation of typical char- 
acters in novels or paintings, especially, presupposes 
the acquaintance with a great number of individuals 
of whom the type is a sort of summary; and it is the 
unconscious reference to all these individuals on which 
the recognition of the type depends. Indeed, the 
associational awakening of previous experiences is one 
of the most characteristic features of art, and has even 


MENTAL OVERTONES 263 


been invoked by some estheticians as an almost suff- 
cient explanation of esthetic effects. Hence it may 
well be that the thrills of art are the token of a min- 
iature representation like that mentioned. We cannot 
prove it, but there is nothing absurd or fantastic about 
the notion. 

We may now ask: are there any minds in the uni- 
verse which actually take in longer periods of time at 
a stroke; and if there are, may there be a connection 
between the same and the abortive, miniature repre- 
sentations spoken of? May these latter be a mirror 
of the larger mental sweeps? Assuredly, it is not 
only possible, but even probable, that there should be 
minds of this character. Von Baer has written an 
interesting essay on this subject, and Royce has treated 
the matter as a serious possibility in his World and 
the Individual. The fact that we directly span only 
a few seconds of time is no guarantee that this is true 
of all other sentient beings as well. We know of an- 
imals whose lives only cover a few hours, while others 
live a century. May not their conscious “span” show 
considerable differences as well? Our minds are 
adapted to the surroundings wherein we live, and differ- 
ent surroundings will naturally require different 
adaptations. Indeed, there is no reason whatever, on 
general principles, why there may not be mentalities 
in the universe whose perceptual span is confined to 
periods as short as the vibrations of light of which 
physics teaches, while others may cover hundreds or 
thousands of years. 

But might there be a connection between such minds 


264 SET URGING Ga Rob ACTUAL IN Topas 


and our own, and might this involve the “overtones” 
of which we have been speaking? That there is a 
connection between various realms of consciousness 
is a familiar view. Indeed, it is involved in all re- 
ligious systems which posit the existence of beings 
above man. To be sure, in some cases the connection 
is supposed to be merely external, like that between an 
artificer and the mechanism he has created ; but in others 
it is more intimate, and our existence is supposed to 
emanate directly from the superior beings, or even to 
form a part thereof. The mystics have experiences 
which seem to corroborate such an intimate depend- 
ence and interpenetration. Fechner has worked out 
a view of the world according to which the content of 
our lives is taken up into the experience of higher 
beings. And according to James the subconscious in 
our minds connects us with vaster realms of spirit. 
There is nothing new, accordingly, about the theory 
of an interconnection of conscious realms. In fact, 
it seems difficult to avoid some such conclusion, if 
there are to be any higher realms of spirit at all. 

And now the final question must be put: may our 
mental overtones be connected somehow with those 
higher beings which we have posited, may they furnish 
us with a clew as to their nature and the conditions 
under which they live? 

Here we shall have recourse again to the subject of 
overtones. A tone, we know, produces a single, 
homogeneous impression. And by means of the over- 
tones which are present in it, but which are not sep- 
arately heard, it acquires a certain quality or timbre. 


MENTAL OVERTONES 265 


But this is not all. The overtones really foreshadow 
and form the basis of something much broader and 
richer than the mere tone, 7. ¢., of a musical chord or 
harmony. In fact, the overtone series, when repro- 
duced by means of separate tones, gives us two of the 
most important harmonies in music, 1. e., the major 
triad and the chord of the dominant seventh, and it 
is plausible that the fundamental nature of these har- 
monies is due to this very fact, namely, that they are 
present already in the root-tone as partials. Now, 
what we are trying to bring home is something an- 
alogous to this. As the partials which constitute 
timbre foreshadow something much broader and 
richer than the single tone, 7.e., a complete harmony, 
so the mental overtones which produce emotional 
timbre may possibly stand for experiences that are 
much wider and grander than the feeling or perception 
in which they are contained. They, too, may be the 
miniature representation of something which is as 
much superior to any single experience as a rich chord 
is superior to a tone. 

Have we any positive considerations that this is 
true? Not many, we must confess; but enough to 
serve as a basis of investigation. 

We said above that art was the realm of human 
experience which was especially rich in associational 
overtones. And art is that field of experience which 
more than most others seems to point to an existence 
beyond our own. We are speaking, now, of art as 
it really grips the individual and sends him soaring 
on the wings of inspiration,—not of that realm of 


2606 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


mere objective ‘perception or criticism beyond which 
many people do not seem to go. To the person who 
is genuinely carried away by a great work of art, it 
seems indeed as if the portals of hidden, resplendent 
realms of being were opened. Music, especially, and 
the solitary communion with nature—which is akin to 
the enjoyment of art—are rich in these effects. Some- 
times, indeed, it seems as if we were actually trans- 
ported to other periods of time, a peculiar impression 
being aroused as if the past were with us again. We 
shall not undertake to describe the experiences in 
question. For those who have had them, our mere 
reference is enough: they know. As for the others, 
no amount of explanation would bring home what they 
have not been privileged to experience. They are 
blind to a certain aspect of life, and it is in vain to try 
and make them realize what they are unable to see. 
At most, we can point out that many men of genius 
have, in fact, had the experiences of which we speak, 
and have referred to them as yielding peculiar, valu- 
able insights. It is a commonplace to read of art as 
a revelation or a form of worship, and to have Beauty 
placed by the side of Virtue and Truth as a manifes- 
tation of the Divine. To be sure, the words in which 
this 1s expressed are often used in a somewhat fig- 
urative sense. The artist does not literally mean all — 
that he says, although it is probable that he is kept from 
ascribing reality to his words merely because he sees 
no way of supporting logically what he feels in his 
soul. Yet in other cases the assertions are made in 
all seriousness: it is really held that art reveals trans- 


MENTAL OVERTONES 267 


cendent realms of being,—not merely figuratively, but 
actually. Schiller speaks as if he had something like 
this in mind, and Schopenhauer clearly ascribes a 
deeper reality to art than to the world of sense. Art, 
according to him, reveals the Platonic Ideas, which in 
turn are the immediate manifestations of the World- 
will; and music even has the exalted function of man- 
ifesting this Will directly and immediately, and thus 
possesses a more genuine reality than anything else in 
the world. Our hypothesis would account for the 
significance which men like Schiller and Schopenhauer 
find in art, and would offer a point of union for the 
thrills which they feel and the transcendent realms of 
being which those thrills suggest. 

And now let us sum up the situation once more, and 
bring our argument to a focus in a thoroughgoing 
analogy. On the one hand we have isolated tones, cov- 
ering but a single step on the extensive ladder of pitch; 
on the other we have perceptions or experiences, of 
temporal lengths as limited as the tonal pitch. Tones 
are characterized by peculiarities of timbre, experi- 
ences by emotional colorings which are strikingly 
analogous to timbre. Tonal timbre is due to the 
presence of numerous “partials”, which are not per- 
ceived separately, but manifest themselves through the 
change of quality which they impart. And “emotional 
timbre’? is due to the cooperation of numerous past 
experiences, which likewise have no separate existence, 
but merely give color to the experience. By careful 
listening it is sometimes possible to catch some of the 
constituent partials and gain a faint adumbration of 


268 THIRTY GREAT THINKERS 


the harmony which they compose; and for delicately 
attuned individuals it is likewise possible to seize echoes, 
as it were, of happenings which far transcend the 
present moment and reach back to the distant past. 

It remains to ask, now, whether the parallel will hold 
in regard to the remaining feature as well, on which 
our discussion hinges. The partials in music, we have 
seen, are shadowy representations of chords or har- 
monies which actually exist. Are the mental over- 
tones likewise the abortive representations of temporally 
enlarged experiences which exist, and which immeasur- 
ably transcend the perceptions in which they are held? 
We cannot give a positive answer. But the analogy 
is so striking in other respects that we are tempted to 
allow its extension to this feature as well. While there 
is no proof that there are enlarged temporal sweeps in 
the universe of which our “overtone-feelings” are 
miniature copies, we are justified in adopting this sup- 
position as a hypothesis, which awaits investigation on 
the part of men of science. 


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